


The Dragon At The Bottom Of The Garden

by Zopno



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Animagus Harry Potter, Blow Jobs, Explicit Sexual Content, Fluff, Hand Jobs, Happy Ending, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Magical Landscaper Draco Malfoy, Mental Health Issues, Minor Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley, Minor Pansy Parkinson/Original Character(s), Mutual Pining, Oblivious Harry Potter, Past Harry Potter/Ginny Weasley, Post-Hogwarts, Quote: Harry was rapidly becoming obsessed with Draco Malfoy, Recluse Harry Potter, Redeemed Draco Malfoy, Sculptor Harry Potter, Slow Burn, Supportive Ron Weasley, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-03
Updated: 2019-12-03
Packaged: 2020-10-19 20:54:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 52,333
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20663639
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zopno/pseuds/Zopno
Summary: At 25 Harry Potter's life was simple; he flew, sculpted, and had the vault in the back of his mind to keep all unpleasant business. It was stable, but when Draco Malfoy literally hit him with a giant rock; all that changed.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> For Prompt #[59](https://docs.google.com/document/d/16er_sVwwFtbVQxtiFqHRWhw09kwNYhywsB-R48qtVPU/edit#).
> 
> I would like to say a BIG thank you to the mods for doing a fantastic job in organising this wonderful fest. Without you it would not be possible and we are all so grateful for your hard work. Thank you so much!
> 
> Thank you also to my lovely beta who had to bring some sort of coherency to this monster. I don't know what I would have done with out you.  
To all my cheerleaders; thank you for encouraging me to participate and keeping me going.
> 
> Writing this fic was a wild journey and one that I’d love to take again. I hope you all enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it.

If he was being completely honest, it was almost never easy being Harry James Potter. Going anywhere was a colossal task which took far longer than necessary, and many times, Harry relied on a glamour or his invisibility cloak. People still stopped him on the streets, thanking him for everything he had done, asking for pictures and autographs. He learnt the hard way— after an old lady verbally abused him and the following day the Prophet published a front page article about how he thought he was ‘_better than everyone else’ _ — that you could not just say _“no”_ or _ “sorry I’m busy”_ to them. There were reporters following his every move, writing nonsense articles about what his favourite purchase at Honeydukes was or critiquing his choice of clothing, complete with photographs of him and Teddy at the park. Which, by the way, was absolutely atrocious.

Even after the war he still had to give his life to other people. 

Somewhere between the end of the war and the beginning of his eighth year at Hogwarts he got sick of everything and drew in on himself. He shut most people out, in favour of lying in bed all day; only participated in mandatory events and things he had no chance of escaping (Molly’s fortnightly Sunday lunches). 

Harry always wanted to be alone. He couldn’t deal with his own grief, how was he supposed to deal with everyone else’s? He couldn’t leave the house because he was _ never _ alone. So, he never left.

He headed back to Hogwarts for eighth year wishing he had a way to just _ be _and not worry about everything else. Harry had voiced these concerns to Ron and Hermione, and after some brainstorming Hermione had tentatively suggested becoming an Animagus. Having mixed feelings about it, but urged on by his best friends and the thought of being free, he consulted Headmistress McGonagall. 

Four and a half months later he was an Animagus. 

The first time he transformed the whole room was in shock. Ron was the first to laugh, something about being _ “a bird that eats out of fucking bins,” _ only to receive a hard jab in the ribs from Hermione. It shocked even Harry himself as his Patronus was a stag and a person’s Patronus often indicates their Animagus form. This time; it didn’t.

Flying, as a bird, was easy. He soon learnt being a bird was much more advantageous and _ freeing _than a stag would be. The world below him. Sun on his back. Wind in his feathers. No child to turn and squeal excitedly it was “the Saviour of everyone in the whole entire world.” No one from the prophet to take photos of him. No people staring at him. He was free. Not to mention flying was absolutely exhilarating. At least a hundred times better than flying on a broom. He flew swiftly, and enjoyed the thrill testing his limits shot through his veins. It felt exactly like when he was the Seeker for the Gryffindor team. 

***

The garden below him was green and sprinkled with tiny bursts of colour from the budding flowers of the beginning of spring. He flew low over a white picket fence into the next garden. Looking back up just in time, Harry saw a very large grey object and a split second later he slammed face first into it. 

Stunned, his small body fell a few metres and crashed to the ground.

Pain radiating from his entire body, he tried blinking to recover his vision which had gone black on impact. Harry attempted, without success, to roll off his back and regain his bearings. The world in front of him slowly returned from a sea of darkness; a large human-shaped shadow was cast across Harry and the ground he was sprawled on. Gaze following the shadow, he saw none other than Draco sodding Malfoy towering over him, wand in hand and a frown on his face. 

_ Fuck_.

Harry had survived a war, Voldemort on multiple occasions, a Basilisk, and even a dragon, but now he was going to die at the hands of his childhood nemesis: Draco Malfoy.

In one swift movement Malfoy reached his hand behind his back, tucking his wand away and crouched down over Harry. Malfoy’s frown deepened and Harry tried to roll again, but his body didn’t comply. 

“I’m so sorry, are you hurt?” Malfoy’s voice was soft and sincere; which made Harry pause in shock long enough for Malfoy to reach his arms out and grab Harry with both of his big hands. Harry let out several loud shrieks of protest.

“I didn’t deliberately place the rock feature there right as you flew past. I didn’t see you.” Malfoy tipped his head to the giant rock Harry had crashed into.

Malfoy continued speaking softly but it barely registered as Harry struggled to escape his grip, his body finally complying with his mind. He wiggled a wing out of Malfoy’s hands, swung his little feet wildly, and turned his head and bit Malfoy’s index finger as hard as he could. Releasing a shriek of his own, Malfoy immediately let go of Harry and fell back on his arse, dropping Harry back on the ground. 

Taking his chance, Harry rolled over and stood up. He extended his wings hesitantly, making sure they still worked and took off flying. It wasn’t a smooth flight, his head throbbed which made flying straight a little hard. Eventually, he landed on the branch of a tree at the edge of the garden. He turned around to glare at Malfoy now that he was safe. He was still sitting on the ground shaking his hand, and let out a laugh. A proper throw-your-head-back laugh.

“There are few people who have ever made Draco Malfoy bleed, little bird. You are among the greats; up there with Harry Potter,” Malfoy said, looking impressed, before he wrapped his mouth around his finger. 

_ That _ wasn’t a pleasant memory. If he only knew it was Harry, _ again, _ that was making him bleed. But, the git deserved it this time. How dare he manhandle Harry? He deserved more than a bite. Harry wished he had sharp teeth, not just a beak, so it could have really hurt.

Withdrawing his hand, Malfoy inspected it and stood up, still smiling. When did Malfoy start smiling? In fact, Harry had never seen Malfoy smile before. Ever. 

There was a long pause when they stared at each other. Now that there was no imminent death or manhandling, Harry took this chance to actually look at the other man.

Malfoy stood taller than Harry remembered. He had filled out more too, but then again Harry was currently a bird so everything looked huge. He was wearing a loose grey t-shirt which hinted at lean muscle beneath, slim deep navy blue jeans and tan work boots covered in dirt— a _ very _Muggle outfit. He was pale as ever, with dirt not only on his hands, but also flecks on one of his cheekbones and a smudge of it across the left side of his forehead. Malfoy had grown the top of his hair out slightly, but kept the sides short, the hair on top was held in place loosely in a small bun. A few stray locks hung framing his face. Time had certainly done Malfoy justice. 

He looked good_. _

Something which Harry did _ not _ like to admit and made him feel very uneasy. Harry hadn't thought about Malfoy in a long time. He barely went to any social events —once a year at most— and on the rare occasions he did, Malfoy was never there. 

Malfoy took a step towards him, which was a step too close for Harry who cawed a low warning and hopped further down the branch away from him. However, he didn’t seem fazed by Harry’s warning and continued to walk towards him, which just made Harry angrier. He screeched and took flight again. Harry thought about flying to peck the git on the top of his head, but he was a bird and Malfoy was a human with a wand. He didn't like the odds. Instead, Harry flew further up the tree, out of Malfoy’s reach, ultimately looking back down. Harry had never seen a bird glare, but Malfoy now had. Although, it probably wasn’t as effective as a human's. 

Standing still, Malfoy put his hands up in surrender. 

“I just wanted to make sure you’re okay. Your wings seem fine, it doesn’t look like you have any broken bones but—” 

Having enough of Malfoy’s excuses for attacking him, _ again, _ Harry decided on squawking until he'd stop speaking. This interaction went on for _ over _a minute. 

When Malfoy finally stopped, he stood with his hands on his hips. Harry cawed three more times to make a point. A gentle breeze swayed the branch Harry perched on and blew the stray hairs around Malfoy’s face, who just rolled his eyes. 

“You know, you’re just a smaller, less intimidating, faded, ugly, and all round inferior version of a crow,” Malfoy said with a self indulgent smirk. 

Harry ruffled his feathers in a way that intimidated other birds— but didn’t really have the same effect on Malfoy— so he just reverted to shrieking at him. Infuriatingly, Malfoy just raised an eyebrow and waited out Harry’s outburst. 

Once Harry stopped Malfoy spoke again, “Okay. I’m sorry, you’re not ugly.” he paused, “You can fuck off now.” Malfoy made a shooing motion with his hands.

Harry _ could _ leave now… _ Or _ he could stay and see what Malfoy was doing because, _ surely _ he was up to something. No one attacks birds without being up to something. So, Harry stayed where he was, observing him. Malfoy also didn’t move. A few seconds later, he shook his head and spoke again. 

“What ever, suit yourself.” 

Turning around, Malfoy walked back to the big grey rock that he made Harry smash into. Having a chance to actually inspect it, it turned out to be a large rock sculpture. Harry recognised it as a sculpture from the exhibition he'd attended a month ago. It stood several metres tall and around three wide. There was one main pillar with three smaller ones varying in size surrounding it, and an array of small jagged rocks at the base. But what had really captured Harry's interest were the deep grey Japanese characters carved into the stone. 

What in Merlin’s beard was Malfoy doing moving a large sculpture around in a garden?

Bent down on the far side of the statue, Malfoy was now murmuring something. Something that seemed pretty suspicious, so Harry _ definitely _ had to check it out. He landed on the top pillar of rock and looked down at Malfoy who was crouched down pointing his wand at the base. He paused his murmuring after a second to look up at Harry. 

“Did your parents not teach you it’s impolite to stare?” Malfoy said.

Harry didn’t dignify Malfoy with a response. Staring back at him for a second before bending down, Mafloy aimed his wand at the seam where the rock met the grass underneath, and began chanting again. 

Harry decided he needed a better vantage point, so he landed on the ground two or so metres away from Malfoy. Still, it was hard to see so he hopped closer.

“You know,” Malfoy stopped again before looking up at him, “if you wanted to see what I’m doing you could just ask. Full disclosure, I’m not digging, thus there will be no worms for you to eat.”

Harry shuddered with the thought. He'd never eat worms in his bird form _ again _. Once, he'd felt brave and decided to see what eating like a bird was like. After he'd transformed back, he had an insufferable stomach ache, vomiting whole worms. 

Harry hopped twice more until he could see perfectly and Malfoy pointed to where the rock sat on the ground. 

“I’m joining the rock to the ground with my magic...” Malfoy glanced at Harry before continuing, “if the rocks are joined to the ground I can use magic to guide plant growth around, and even on the rocks.”

Harry stared at Malfoy. What a bizarre thing for him to be doing, also sounded a little fake; you can’t grow plants on rocks and _ Malfoy _wouldn’t be doing something like that either. 

_ Harry should definitely continue investigating. _

Malfoy looked over to Harry again, which made him nervous. Birds don’t just stand watching people, right? Harry hopped a few paces away from Malfoy, and dug his beak into the ground a few times. He hoped he was convincing enough. 

“The plan is to prepare the feature for basic plant growth at the base, with more difficult growth on and in between the rocks further up.”

Malfoy pointed his wand at the base of the rock, _ “Plantae Aucturus” _ he murmured, moving his wand in a small looping pattern ending with a sharp flick. A soft blue light, the colour of a pale sky at sunrise, appeared from under the rocks and slowly wound up until it was entirely engulfed in the light, and then immediately dispersed. The rock appeared exactly as it had previously. No change. 

Expecting to see disappointment on Malfoy’s face, Harry was surprised when there wasn’t any. He had a satisfied half-smile. Malfoy nodded once to himself and stood up. Harry instantly reacted by hopping away from him and put some distance between them. 

“The spell takes a full day to completely bind and create surfaces where plant life can flourish.” Malfoy turned away from the rock and started walking towards a small white patio, “so I can’t do anything else today.”

Harry stood in place staring up at the back of Malfoy. He had a perfect view of Malfoy’s very nicely sculpted arse, but he was definitely not looking at that; Harry was just in shock. Malfoy paused mid stride to look back at Harry.

“I think it’s time for lunch, perhaps you would like to accompany me. I have no worms or insects.” Malfoy pulled a small pouch from his pocket and reached in to retrieve a sandwich, “but perhaps you would be partial to some bread?” 

Who _ was _ this man? 

This was absolutely insane. Malfoy must be having him on. Malfoy was staring at him again, so Harry hopped around a little pecking the ground;_ be one with the bird. _

“Come on then, I don’t have all day.” Turning around again and striding towards the patio, Malfoy pulled out a chair and sat down, crossing his legs. 

_ “Scourgify.” _Malfoy cast a wandless cleaning charm on his hands, but not his face much to Harry’s delight. If he was going to show off with wandless magic, it served him right that he still had dirt on his face. He took a few bites, seemingly enjoying his sandwich.

He looked to Harry before back at his sandwich, then tore a piece of bread and held it out in the palm of his hand. 

“Here, the promised bread,” Malfoy nodded to his hand, “also a peace offering, to say ‘sorry I made you crash into a huge rock.’” 

One; there was no way Harry was going to eat out of Malfoy’s hand, and two, the more rational argument was that no bird would eat out of a human’s hand. Especially one who had attacked them. Malfoy nodded silently for a second before tossing the bread towards Harry. It landed on the ground in front of him. 

Harry should have just flown away when he had the chance, but he _ had _ to see what suspicious things Malfoy was up to._ ‘Yes, very suspicious, trying to plant things in a garden,’ _ his brain unhelpfully supplied. Now he had no choice but to eat off the ground in front of Draco Malfoy. No bird would just ignore _ free bread_. 

Glancing up he saw Malfoy watching him expectantly while chewing. Harry looked back at the bread, ruffled his feathers, sighed internally, and hopped over to the bread. Harry paused at the bread, it was humiliating but at least Malfoy didn’t know it was him. He flicked his eyes up to Malfoy, who hadn’t moved, and bent down to pick up the bread. In one go, Harry swallowed the small piece. 

Harry dreaded looking back up at Malfoy. Surely he would be standing there with a smirk on his face, pointing and laughing at him, saying something along the lines of “Great Saint Potty eating off the ground! How low you have sunk!” Then Harry would of course have to hex him and then they would fight like when they were children. 

Mustering his Gryffindor courage, he looked up. Only, Malfoy wasn’t standing there maliciously about to make fun of Harry, he was still sitting with a small smile on his face. 

“See, we can be friends,” he tore another piece of bread and tossed it towards Harry, “It is possible to overcome a past of animosity if both parties are willing.” 

Surely those words weren’t for him… right? There is no way he could know it was Harry. He was obviously just talking about the episode with the rock feature. Still, hearing the words from Malfoy caused mixed feelings. Was it true, even for them? Could they overcome even their history?

“You didn’t like the bread?” Malfoy’s voice brought Harry out of his daze, “I don’t think I brought anything else you’d eat.”

Shit. Now he’s going to have to eat more _ Ground Bread_. Harry looked at the new piece of bread, hopped over and ate it. 

Harry loved to hop, it was fun and he thought that, perhaps, hopping as a bird felt like what jumping on the moon would feel like. What Harry did not love was eating _ Ground Bread _ in front of Draco Malfoy. 

Malfoy seemed genuinely happy Harry was eating the bread he was throwing him. It was a soft emotion Harry had never seen on him before. It was the strangest thing Harry had seen in a _ very _long time. It was with the edges of his mouth pulled up slightly, which softened his whole face, that Malfoy threw more bread slightly closer to himself this time. 

“You know, not many people want to have lunch with me anymore.” Malfoy took a bite, chewed it slowly and swallowed before continuing, “They used to bend over backwards to. Now some of my clients don’t even want to be home when I’m here, and others sit in the window watching. To make sure I don’t do anything _ evil._” 

A quiet admission to a little bird was something that Harry didn’t know how to deal with. Harry wasn’t adept at coping with his own emotions let alone other people’s. That’s what was good about being a bird, no one told you their feelings or anything emotional. Well no one else did. Malfoy was always the exception that proves the rule. 

Rolling his eyes, Malfoy threw more bread for Harry. It was closer, again, to Malfoy. Closer than Harry would have wanted, but he got himself into this mess so he just needed to deal with it for a little longer. Harry covered the short distance then glanced up to make sure Malfoy, who was now less than a metre away, wasn’t going to move. He leant down to grab the bread with his beak then immediately hopped away so he had a nice and safe distance between them. Once he deemed himself safe again, he ate the bread. 

“Don’t trust me, do you?” Malfoy huffed a short laugh, “You’re just like them,” Malfoy tilted his head towards the house. 

Something flared in Harry and he let out a scandalised squawk. How dare Malfoy compare him to those people in the houses who actively avoid him at all costs, or hide in the window because they think he’s up to somethi— 

Shit. 

That’s exactly what Harry was doing, wasn’t it?

“I know, I know, I was only making a joke. We’re friends.” Malfoy laughed looking down at what was left of the sandwich in his hand— there was one mouthful left— he tore it in half ate one and lobbed the other towards Harry, “There. I shared the last bit with you, that counts for something, right?”

Chewing on his own half, Mafloy looked expectantly at Harry. What in the world was Harry doing? He would have shaken his head if birds did that type of thing, but instead hopped slowly to the sandwich. It was bigger than what Harry could eat. So, he had to do what he saw birds often did. He picked up the big piece in his beak and whacked it on the ground. There was no change so he did it again, until it was small enough to eat and Harry was getting dizzy from swinging his head around. Then he slowly picked up the pieces and ate them. Malfoy laughed.

“I am sorry, I should have broken it up.” 

Finishing the scattered sandwich bits, Harry looked up to Malfoy who was watching him. Harry didn’t know what to do and Malfoy did nothing, so he turned around and flew on to a branch of the tree next to the patio. Malfoy watched him quietly then smiled.

“Well, it was nice meeting you. I am truly sorry for hitting you with a rock. Have a pleasant afternoon.” Malfoy stood up, gave a nod to Harry, and Apparated away. 

Completely unsure of how to deal with what just happened— or just unable to process what had happened— Harry stood on the branch. He thought it best not to dwell on things he couldn’t process; things he didn’t understand his emotions for. That was his way of dealing with most things, just ignore it. So, he spread his wings and headed home, hoping that the wind on his face and the world beneath his wings would distract him from his very peculiar encounter. 

***

Two days after the, rightly dubbed, “6th of March Malfoy Incident”, Hermione and Ron stepped through Harry’s Floo ready to drag him to their weekly dinner. 

“Harry...” Hermione looked around his living room cautiously, “anything happen that we should know about?”

“Yeah mate, you’re generally not _ this _ all over the place,” Ron said, gesturing all around the room. 

Harry looked around and had to agree that he wasn’t usually this messy, at least not in the living room, he always kept his sculpting to his workshop. He shook his head, he wasn’t going to tell them about his weird encounter with Malfoy. He was just going to put it under lock and key and in the back of his mind marked “Things I Will No Longer Think About”, along with all the other things he refused to deal with. 

“No, I just got carried away.” Harry laughed. He always got carried away sculpting.

Hermione eyed him suspiciously and Harry just nodded giving her a serious look. Ron walked over and wrapped his arm around her shoulders, giving her a squeeze. 

“Come on love, he’s just getting excited for the next exhibition.” Ron gave Harry a smile, let go of Hermione and walked to give Harry a thump on the back.

“Are you ready to go?” Hermione raised an eyebrow at Harry, knowing that she’ll probably receive some resistance from him. 

“Can’t we stay here?” Harry groaned.

“Harry James Potter.” Hermione put her hands on her hips, Harry knew he was in trouble when she used his full name. “You never leave your house. You never see Teddy anymore, and only attend exhibitions once or twice a year. Other than that, our weekly drinks are the only time you leave. We are going out.”

It wasn’t that he was _ afraid _ of Hermione, she just had a point. If he told her he went flying regularly she would reprimand him like last time and tell him that “flying isn’t the same as _ human interaction _,” so he held his tongue. His occasional visits to a Muggle coffee shop down the road didn’t count either, apparently.

They Apparated to the back alley of their favourite Muggle London pub and headed in.

The booth in the back behind the large pot plant that was always reserved for them Thursday evenings at eight was waiting for them. Harry sat on one side with Hermione opposite him. Ron went straight to the bar to order drinks and food. When he returned he placed a pint in front of each of them and slid in next to Harry. 

The pub was dimly lit with soft orange lights and quiet music played through the speakers. There was a calming chatter throughout the room, frequently pierced with bubbling laughter. In general, Harry hated leaving the house— as a human— but the beer was cold and left a warm feeling in his belly. Here, surrounded by Muggles, he was able to just be Harry without all the pressures that being _ Harry Potter _ brought. 

They chatted happily for thirty minutes. Taylor, the bartender who Ron had befriended a few months ago, brought their food over. As the beers kept pouring in, Harry was finally able to relax. It was all very pleasant and relaxing, but when a flash of blond hair caught his eye, Harry whipped his head around in shock. 

A short blonde woman was walking to the toilets. Harry released the breath he had been holding in. Definitely not Draco Malfoy. His friends gave him a questioning look but Harry quickly shook his head and brushed off any inquiries. However, now that his mind had turned to Draco Malfoy, it didn’t want to simply brush it off. So Harry did what any sane person would do, and try to bring up the topic as casually as possible.

“So, does anyone know what Malfoy’s up to these days?” Harry blurted in a pause of conversation.

Not quite as casual as he had hoped.

“Malfoy?” Ron looked at him in shock, “Why are you suddenly interested in the dealings of the ferret?”

Harry hadn’t anticipated that question. He absolutely should have though. 

“Uh well…” Harry needed to come up with a good excuse.

_ Don’t say you were thinking about him. _ His brain helpfully supplied.

“I was just thinking about him.” 

Fuck. He was more of a light weight that he realised.

Hermione’s eyebrows disappeared underneath the mass of her hair, and Ron choked on his pint. 

“I, you know, because...” Harry was scrambling, “I- I saw this snooty looking blond while we walked here and he just, uh, reminded me of him. You know.” Harry shrugged, trying and failing to convince even himself. 

Ron frowned, “I didn’t see him mate.”

Hermione nodded agreeing with her husband.

“Well, I guess you two just weren’t as observant as I was. Probably too busy alternating squeezing your held hands, or giving the other a sneaky wink,” Harry said defiantly, urging them to challenge him. 

Ron huffed in defeat, and despite her cheeks tinting with a blush Hermione rolled her eyes. 

“Malfoy, if you don’t remember, is running his own landscaping business; _ Etched in Dust_.” Hermione sat up taller in her seat, “The _ same _company that did our backyard?”

Harry froze. 

Surely he’d remember something like that. Had he really turned into that bad a friend that he didn’t remember them telling him _ Malfoy _ redid their garden? Well, it made sense now why Malfoy was in that random garden with dirt on his face casting spells on rocks.

“Harry?” Ron was waving his hand in front of his face.

“Oh, yeah. Right, he’s still doing that. I see.” Harry took a sip of his pint just so he didn’t sit there awkwardly.

Hermione eyed him carefully but any thought she had she did not voice. They fell into silence, and the once welcoming chatter of the room seemed to seep into him causing a drowning sensation inside his own mind. 

Harry quickly finished his pint. 

“I should get going…” Harry wasn’t able to look his friends in the eye. 

He heard Hermione sigh and Ron bumped his thigh against Harry’s. 

“Please mate, you’ve only been here an hour. What happened to the days where they’d have to kick us out because we'd stay well past closing?” Ron had a hint of sadness in his tone. 

“We’re worried about you, you rarely go out and have basically cut ties with people. You haven’t had a serious relationship since Ginny.” Hermione reached out and wrapped her warm hand around his. “We just want you to be happy.” She waited and when Harry didn't answer, she added, “If you can look me in the eye and say that you are, we’ll drop it…” 

Harry knew he could not do that. This was one of those times where all his running from conversations about meaningful things and confronting emotions backed him into a corner. He swallowed, his throat felt as if someone had poured sawdust down it. He wished he hadn’t skulled his drink just moments prior. Hermione could see through him far too easily.

“I’m okay, really. Just been a little tired lately.” Deflecting, Harry swallowed to try and relieve the dryness in his throat. His friends were so caring and they truly loved him, and he them. It was almost as if he was letting them down.

“You know what? Let’s go,” Ron said.

“What— Where? We’re trying to get him to _ stay _ not go.” Hermione hurriedly shook her head. 

“Let’s go flying.”

This perked Harry’s interest.

“Why? You know I don’t fly.” Hermione addressed her husband.

“Come on love, you’re a Gryffindor. I’ll let you sit on my broom,” Ron winked at her before he continued, “besides, Harry isn’t Harry anymore unless he’s flying or sculpting.” Ron concluded as if it was a fact.

“Oi, what’s that supposed to mean?”

“You know what I mean mate, tell him love.”

Harry looked to Hermione, who was nodding thoughtfully. “It’s true.” 

“It’s settled then, we’re going flying!” Ron said loud enough for a group of Muggles at the pub to turn their heads towards them.

“I didn’t know you liked fourteen hour plane rides that much!” Hermione spoke loudly trying to cover for Ron, and it caused the two women who were pretending they weren’t listening to chuckle. 

It was so much better like this, Harry preferred his friends over the rest of the world. Laughing with them he felt the same warmth in his chest. The kind he got when flying, and he used to get at Weasley’s lunches and waking up in the Gryffindor dormitories. 

He stood up.

“Let’s go get that plane!”.

Hermione rolled her eyes, “We’ve had alcohol.”

Ron shrugged, “It’ll be fine.”

“Come on ‘Mione, please.”

“Yeah love, you’re always saying you’d do anything to make Harry happy again,” Ron said and it sent a painful twang through Harry’s chest. Hermione looked away, embarrassed. 

She paused for a second, “Well, I guess we can’t get expelled anymore so there’s nothing else to lose.” The three of them ended up grinning from ear to ear, choking on their laughs, and clutching their stomachs.

They left the pub, Apparated back to the Granger-Weasley residence and grabbed Ron’s broom. Then the three Apparated to their regular flying area: a huge open area in the countryside. Harry transformed into a bird the moment they arrived, and Ron managed to convince Hermione to sit on the broom with him promising that he’ll, “go slow, you won’t even know you’re flying,” which was a very blatant lie. 

The three of them spent the evening soaring around the calm and quiet night sky, only disturbed by _ whooping _ from Ron, _ Slow down, Ronalds _ from Hermione, and _ caw-ing _from Harry.

***

Harry spent the morning working around the house. The four days after he spent the evening with his friends, he managed to stay in a good mood; and he decided to reward himself with a nice afternoon flight as it was a lovely day.

The cool breeze ruffled his feathers and made it feel as if he were bobbing over waves in the ocean. Every so often he would pause flapping his wings to just glide on the air, enjoying his surroundings. The houses below him were large and very well kept, and had lots of trees and plants in the gardens— great to test his flying.

Tilting into a nosedive, he plummeted down into the garden below. It was a wide area, with trees, bushes, and lawn decorations. A perfect place for Harry to do a make-shift obstacle course. He flew around the trees and bushes letting out excited chirps every time he would make it around a sharp bend at top speed. He finished the yard and saw a small bird size hole in the fence leading to the next house. Ever the thrill seeker, he decided to take it at full speed, drawing his wings in tight to him as he flew through. 

Cawing gleefully and _ just _escaping with his wings intact Harry turned his attention to the yard he just entered. 

Dangerous stunts often encounter unforeseen issues when not thought through. 

He cleared the fence very nicely; however, the large human body standing a metre from the fence was an unpleasant surprise. Harry panicked and swerved at the very last second. There was a smashing sound and Harry ended up tangled in a bush a few metres away, squawking like a madman. 

“Fucking birds!” 

Harry thrashed his wings trying to untangle himself and get out of the bush, complaining the whole way. It was not his fault. Nevertheless, he had managed to get himself quite stuck and as a bird there was not much he could do but to flail around screeching.

“Merlin give me strength,” an eerily familiar voice said.

No fucking way. 

He stilled as none other than Draco Malfoy pried the top of the bush open. 

Malfoy reached one of his arms in towards him, but he was definitely not about to get manhandled by Malfoy _ again. _ Harry did the only thing that he could do, screech louder, and flail harder until Malfoy withdrew his hand.

“I was just trying to fucking help you.” Malfoy bit out, but he continued to hold the top of the bush open. 

With Harry quieting down, neither of them moved. 

“Are you going to hop out you insolent creature? I haven’t got all day.” Malfoy glanced behind him, “It is your fault the bird bath over there is broken. Now I have to fix that, _ too_.”

How dare he say that it was Harry’s fault? Harry hadn't even touched Malfoy, it was his fault for standing there. Still, he also didn’t want to test Malfoy’s patience and he was his best bet of getting out of the bush. So with all the effort he could muster, Harry flapped, hopped, and climbed his way out of the bush. 

Once out, he escaped away from Malfoy and landed on the fence flew through. Malfoy turned to him, brows drawn in, lips a thin line, and the edges of his mouth turned down. Malfoy stalked towards him.

“You blasted bird, make me break the bird bath, then; I try to help you and you lose it.” Malfoy waves his hands around as he speaks, “and now you come sit on the fence next to the broken bird bath to mock me.” Malfoy pauses his rant to take a breath.

“You’re just like them you see, everything that goes wrong is _ my _ fault. _ I _ didn’t make the stepping stones the wrong colour, _ you _ bought the wrong ones!” Malfoy’s words tumbled from his mouth. 

It didn’t look like he was going to attack Harry in anyway, but he didn’t like taking verbal abuse from anyone. Watching him cautiously, Harry cawed twice at Malfoy, who seemed beyond paying attention to him. 

“And you know what, _ No _ of course I didn’t take your cake!? Your muppet of a child took it, how can you be so thick as to not realise tha—” Malfoy stopped mid-sentence to finally look at Harry. He narrowed his eyes, shaking his head. 

“You have to be taking the piss. You’re the same— there’s no way you’re the same bird.” Malfoy rubbed his eyes with the palms of his hands, “Of course you’re the same sodding bird. This is insanity. This isn’t even the same garden!”

Malfoy spun on his heel and walked away. He stopped, turned around, and strode back to Harry. 

“No, but you are the same bird, aren’t you? Look, you even have the same ugly white jagged line on leading down to your beak,” Malfoy said waving his finger at Harry.

Having had enough, he decided to shriek at Malfoy for a little bit. Of course Malfoy, without even knowing it, was making fun of his scar. Animagus forms bare identifying markers of their human forms; that was Harry’s. 

“Oh, do shut up!” Malfoy yelled over Harry’s loud complaining.

Harry stopped. He wasn’t exactly sure why, but he did. Malfoy looked utterly _ frazzled_.

“Thank you.” Malfoy bent down and collected the pieces of the bird bath, “you know, this bath is for creatures like you, and you broke it. Seems pretty foolish to me,” Malfoy narrowed his eyes at Harry. He then reached around and to his back where he pulled out his wand, aimed it at the bird bath and cast _ Reparo_. 

Once the bath was back in one piece, Malfoy placed it in the garden bed, filled it with water, then turned back to Harry. 

“Go on then.” He tilted his head towards the bath.

There was no universe in which Harry was going to have a bath in front of Malfoy, even if he was a bird. Also birds don’t just do as they’re told. 

They both stared at each other for about thirty seconds before Malfoy just shrugged and walked away.

This was absolutely mad. It wasn’t even the same house, nor neighbourhood. On top of that Malfoy truly believed that he was a bird. Further, Malfoy was acting suspiciously un-Malfoy-ish, which obviously intrigued Harry. What harm would having a little look do?

Malfoy reached the middle of the yard and was looking towards something Harry couldn’t see. Flying from the fence and over to Malfoy, Harry circled over his head once, and landed on the lowest branch closest to where Malfoy was looking. Staring at a pile of round tile-like stones, Malfoy had his hands on his hips—something akin to a power stance that Hermione always talked about. He was dressed similarly to what he had been wearing previously, this time instead of a grey shirt, it was a royal blue and much tighter, showing that landscaping _ had _done Malfoy well; if the toned lean muscle there was anything to go by. He had no dirt on his face, or hands today; but his hair was much messier, with more of the front hanging around his face rather than in a bun at the back of his head. 

“Do you think the orange stepping stones clash with the white pebbles?” Malfoy glanced over to Harry as he spoke.

Contemplating the question, Harry looked at the stones in front of Malfoy. They didn’t look _ bad_, per say, although colour wise a grey would make the yard look sleeker, and match the birdbath that Malfoy just placed. Following a significant pause Harry cooed at Malfoy, to which Malfoy raised one of his eyebrows. 

“You’re right, the original black stones, or even light grey ones, which I suggested they buy would look much better, but _ no_. They didn’t listen, and now they’re unhappy with the colour and decide that it’s my fault because I didn’t say ‘buy the black stepping stones,’ I just suggested them.” Malfoy waved his hand in the direction of the piled stones.

“AND if I actually told them to buy the black ones they would have an aneurysm, they’d say idiotic things like—” here Malfoy changes his voice to a high pitch voice akin to an old lady, “ —how _ dare _ an ex— “ Malfoy pauses here hunches his shoulders a little, looks around, leans in towards Harry, “_Death Eater_,” he whispers, then continues at normal volume, “tell me what to do!’ They’re ridiculous, nothing I do is right. It’s like they’re looking to pick a fight.” Malfoy finishes his rant. 

Sure, he has an eye for colour, but any twat could tell that orange would clash with the modern black-white-green aesthetic of the garden, that wasn’t something special. However, it didn’t sound fair to blame Malfoy. Yeah, he’s a person of questionable morals and a bad past but he paid his dues, and the part of Harry that valued justice so highly had begun to fire up.

The branch bowed under his weight, bobbing slightly as Harry hopped down towards the end of it. He was now under two metres away from Malfoy, who turned back to the garden section in front of him. 

The loud squawk of irritation Harry let out made Malfoy jump slightly and whip his head towards Harry.

“Merlin! Don’t do that, you nutter.” He was clearly unimpressed with Harry’s outburst, which brought Harry great happiness. 

For longer than Harry would have liked, Malfoy just stared at him. It made him nervous, which he tried to cover by acting bird like. He looked around a little, fluffed his feathers, stretched his wings a couple of times, and even cooed a little for good measure. Malfoy didn’t look away. Shit, Harry was screwed, had Malfoy figured it out?

Malfoy narrowed his eyes at him but said nothing.

He opened his mouth, then shut it. 

Harry should _ definitely _fly away now.

A smirk spread across his face and he nodded.

_ Oh no. _

“Gertrude.”

What?

If Harry was in his human form his eyebrows would have become wings, joined together in the middle, and flown straight off his face out into the great unknown.

“Gertrude,” Malfoy nodded to himself. “You need a name, and Gertrude suits you. You seem like a Gertrude.” he finished with a smile.

Laughing didn’t seem to have the same effect when you were a bird Harry realised as he shrieked loudly. 

“I’m glad you like it.” 

No, that wasn’t an acceptance of the name. It absolutely was not.

Despite being unable to process the insanity of this whole flying into Malfoy business in the first place, he had now given Harry a name. _ Gertrude. _ Harry did _ not _seem like a Gertrude, thank you very much. 

Surely Harry was having a bad trip, perhaps inhaling too much toxic fumes from glue or something. Hermione was always going on about having inadequate ventilation in his workshop. There was honestly no other explanation for this strange episode. 

Malfoy stood there smiling and nodding contently to himself. 

“So Gertrude, what do you think I should do...?” 

In all honesty, Harry had no clue. Draco Malfoy was asking a bird (Harry), a bird who he named _ Gertrude _ (also Harry), a bird he didn’t know was Harry (yep, you guessed it, still Harry) what he should do about a _ landscaping issue. _ What in Merlin’s name is one supposed to do in that situation. 

However, Malfoy solved that issue for him.

“Yeah, you’re right.” Malfoy walked over to the tree Harry was perched on and sat down against the trunk. “I won’t let it bother me. They can treat me like dirt for what I did, I deserve it, but it’s from dirt that the strongest trees grow.” Malfoy pulled his knees up to his chest, resting his chin on them. 

Harry edged dangerously close to the end of the branch and it bobbed up and down, before he dropped down to a lower branch. Malfoy was lost in thought.

“You know, I quite enjoyed the last time we partook in lunch together Gertrude, perhaps you would also like to accompany me today?” It was strange but Harry did want to. This Malfoy was pleasant— relatively speaking; he did attack Harry a few times but was genuinely sorry afterwards— and for some unknown insane reason Harry enjoyed his company. It was probably only because Harry has had no human interaction besides Ron and Hermione for over a week. 

Similar to the last insane encounter, Malfoy pulled out a sandwich and started to unwrap it while stretching his legs at the same time. He looked at Harry and smirked. 

“So, come here often?” he asked with a mouthful.

It was hard to tell which was more bizarre; Malfoy using a very old pick up line on a bird, or talking with a full mouth. Harry dropped down until he was on the lowest branch of the tree and hopped along until he had a clear view of Malfoy who was watching him.

“You’re quite agile, aren’t you?” Malfoy took another bite of his sandwich and tore off a little piece of bread which he tossed on the ground below Harry’s branch. 

This is why Harry should have left. 

_ Ground bread_.

Malfoy looked up at him expectantly. From above Harry could see the way the sunlight shone off Malfoy’s hair; giving him something akin to a golden halo, the long and exposed length of his neck, and the glint of the sun in his eyes. Which Harry decided he would absolutely ignore, and instead focus his attention on the _ Ground Bread_. 

Jumping down onto the grass, he glanced at Malfoy and walked over to the _ Ground Bread_. He took it in his beak and swallowed it down.

“You didn’t hop— I thought you were some oddly disabled bird who couldn’t walk normally…” Malfoy spoke with a small smile on his face, “Well Gertrude, I was wrong. As I find I occasionally am, you must just really like hopping around.” 

He had always managed to get himself into unimaginable situations, but this really had to be up there. In the category; ‘insane situations that Harry can’t process so he stops tying’. 

Malfoy threw more bread, closer to his feet making Harry hop closer to get it.

“Ah, there she is.” Malfoy chuckled to himself before taking a bite from his sandwich. 

They sat in silence eating Malfoy’s sandwich. Once finished, Malfoy wandlessly vanished the wrapper and pulled his knees up to his chest, wrapping his arms around them, and rested his head on top. Harry thought he was a show off with his wandless magic, but then again there was only a bird there to watch, so maybe not. 

Other than his breathing and blinking, Malfoy didn’t really move at all. Harry bounced around until he was almost opposite him. His gaze was unfocused, locked on something in the distance. It was an incredibly vulnerable state that Harry saw Malfoy in, and he’d never seen anything like it before. Even when he found him in the bathroom all those years ago it was _ different_. This was very unnerving.

Unsure why, Harry cawed very softly. Malfoy blinked twice before turning his attention to Harry, who had come considerably closer, and regarded him with a slight frown on his face.

In one swift— and surprisingly graceful— motion, Malfoy stood up, frightening Harry who squawked and flew back slightly. Malfoy was _ tall _ and towered over Harry. 

“You’re absolutely right. I’ve done some awful, awful things.” Malfoy paused here almost getting lost in thought again but he straightened his back and drew up to his full height before continuing, “Things that could never really be forgiven, some things that _ I _can’t forgive myself for doing. I was an awful person.”

Looking down at a very frozen and unsure Harry, he paused again. Malfoy gave a half smile before he crouched down over him. 

“But you know what? I paid for that. I served my time, paid my dues. I pay for my past _ every day _. Mothers pull their children as far away as possible when I walk past them. Maybe that would be fair if I was still who I used to be, but I try to better myself every single chance I get. I am not my past, it may have made me— but it’s not who I am.”

His brain refused to process anything, so Harry just stared. Malfoy was still over him and it was as if every joint in his tiny little bird body had solidified. 

“I don’t have many friends, Gertrude, however, the ones I do have helped me rebuild my life. They supported me when I had no one, and I worked as hard as I could to build my company. I spent hour after hour in people’s gardens, and used every spare second sat at home reading books for a job I truly love.“

Malfoy stood up and took a few steps away from Harry, looking out across the garden.

“This company is now the best and most demanded in all of Britain, and I am proud of that. More proud of anything I have ever accomplished because this has been _ all me. _Being a ‘pure blood’ didn’t matter, being a Malfoy did not open doors for me— it shut them—, I didn’t get this through my father’s influence, nor the money we had. It was my effort and determination that got me here. Nothing else.”

He turned back to Harry and gradually a sure smile grew across his face.

“And you know what Gertrude, I’m going to expand. I’ll be the best in all of Europe. Because _ this _ is what it means to be a Slytherin. I used to be one of those people who cemented the belief that Slytherins are all evil assholes, when really that’s just a few of us being dicks. This is the pride, the ambition, the drive, the leadership, this is the kind of thing that makes me proud to be Slytherin. Not that toxic hatred and supremacist ideals that we preached as children who knew nothing of the world. This is who I’ve worked to be, and who I am _ proud _to be.”

Finally pausing to take a deep breath, his shoulders back, Malfoy stood tall and commanding. The edges of his mouth turned up ever so slightly and fire blazing in his eyes. Harry had never seen Malfoy so _ powerful _. He had seen him a cocky, self-important child backed by his father’s power and money, but that was different. This was a man who was confident in himself; strong and determined, not letting the world around him dictate his life anymore.

Harry didn’t know what it was, but _ this _Malfoy stirred something deep within him. Something that had been silent for so long Harry thought that part of him died long ago—maybe it died when he did. It made him feel alive again, like life was in front of him— them— not caught up long ago in petty rivalries and war.

Crouching down again and looking Harry in the eye, Malfoy spoke again, “I’m sorry I never properly introduced myself. I am Draco Malfoy. I run the leading magical landscaping business in Britain, I love the people close to me, I always work hard towards goals and I achieve them, and I am proud of who I am _ now_. It’s nice to meet you Gertrude.” Malfoy held his right hand out as if he were going to shake Harry’s tiny bird hand. 

Perhaps if Harry met this person when he was eleven they would have been friends. He shook Malfoy’s hand a year after the war finished when they had a particularly awkward exchange at one of the post-war fundraisers, but Harry would have liked to shake Malfoy’s hand this time.

But birds don’t shake people’s hands. So he hopped back away from Malfoy, who smiled down at him. 

“You’re a very pretty bird, you know?”

It was utterly entrancing and completely bewildering having Malfoy call him pretty. He was at a loss for what to do.

“Well Gertrude, it’s been lovely but I have to go home and write a stern letter about the state of those tiles over there, informing them if they are unhappy with my services they should find someone else. Then plan some other gardens,” he said smiling; He gave Harry a nod and Apparated away. 

Not knowing what to do— which was a state Harry had been in a lot recently caused by his strange encounters with Malfoy— he sat there for a while. Eventually deciding he wanted to be home. Harry couldn’t remember the last time he didn’t feel like flying, but he didn’t _ feel _it. Checking no one was around he transformed back to his human form and Apparated home. 

***

After his second encounter with Malfoy, Harry didn’t leave his house for four days spending almost every waking hour in his workshop. When he felt things he didn’t want to deal with, which was _ very _often, he would just work on his art. If it was particularly hard, he worked with clay. He found the tactile stimuli distracting and soothing, while balling his fist with wet clay and having it ooze out of the gaps between his fingers acted as a way to quell anxiety, almost like deep breathing exercises. At the end of the four days he ended up with something that he didn’t really understand, but didn’t question it.

The sculpture was the size of four newborn babies bundled together. It had the body of a human standing on all four limbs, except the feet and hands melted into scaly feet and clawed hands. The face was human down to the nose, which was elongated into a snout and a jaw open wide with sharp protruding teeth. Exploding from the shoulder blades were two mighty dragon’s wings with large spikes running from the base of the neck down the spine to a large tail that swept behind him. All the parts where dragon and human met had scales melding into skin.

***

It wasn’t like Harry was out _ searching _ for Malfoy. After all, the second house he had worked at was in his usual flight path, so it was just a coincidence. He only flew over the house once, high enough that Malfoy wouldn’t see him, and landed atop a tree in the garden. Looking down on Malfoy and an older lady, maybe in her late fifties or early sixties, Harry listened in on their conversation. 

“Mrs Darlington, I understand your aversion to me.” Malfoy addressed the woman standing tall and confident, “However, I have worked as promised, and done exactly what you have asked of me.” 

The woman shifted uncomfortably, a scowl across her face.

“The stepping stones issue is not a wrongdoing by me, I will not let you blame me for that. If you have any further issues or still feel like you are unhappy with my work, please let me know,” Malfoy continued. 

Mrs Darlington huffed and crossed her arms. She was shorter than Malfoy and had the face of a weasel. 

“I run a very popular business, and am in very high demand. If you do not wish me here, I do not want to be here.”

“I will _ not _ tolerate that kind of speech towards me. I want you gone!” Mrs Darlington scrunched her face, reached out a bony finger and jabbed Malfoy in the chest.

Harry saw the anger flash across Malfoy’s face, but to his surprise Malfoy just smiled.

“I will be gone in a moment. You will find an invoice for material purchased and my work so far brought to you by owl this evening. Have a pleasant afternoon.” Malfoy nodded to her and Disapparated. 

Mrs Darlington stared angrily at the spot Malfoy had been before huffing, turned on her heel and stormed back into the house. 

Amused by Malfoy’s sass and impressed by how he kept his cool, Harry cawed gleefully from the tree. The old Malfoy, the one he knew as a child, would have lost control.

Harry flew for a larger chunk of time than planned, and made sure to take the long way when flying home.

***

Harry dogged out of the way of a middle aged witch who couldn’t see him over the huge parcel she was holding. Despite his glamour, Harry’s gaze kept falling down to his feet in an attempt to remain unrecognisable. Diagon Alley was loud and busier than he remembered it, especially since a human couldn’t just _ fly _ over everyone's head. 

He had decided on a whim to go out… as a _ human_. 

On his own. 

Which he hadn’t done in over a year, not including muggle areas of course. Walking down Diagon Alley, Harry remembered why he didn’t go out anymore. At least his Glamour seemed to be holding up as no one was blatantly staring at him. He didn’t have anything he particularly wanted to do, perhaps look at some books in Flourish and Blotts. He hoped they would have some books on art he hadn’t seen before. His bookshelf full of muggle and wizarding books on all different types of art at home was waiting for new companions.

Wondering when people had gotten so rude, Harry stepped out of the way of another witch who just didn’t care that Harry was walking there. As he walked past Honeydukes Harry inhaled the intoxicating smell of all the sweets mixed together. Finally lifting his head up from his feet, Harry saw a _ very _ familiar head of blond hair. 

_ Malfoy _.

Harry quickened his steps. Now, rather than walking with the flow, he was weaving through the sea of wizards and witches. Heading towards Malfoy walking away from Harry. 

Something urged him on, the buzz of Diagon Alley and slipping between people was a little thrilling. As it turned out, Malfoy was a fast walker. Perhaps he just has long legs, but it still meant that Harry had to walk _ really _ fast. 

No, he wasn’t jogging. 

A child ran directly into Harry’s legs and stumbled almost falling over backwards before he caught and righted her. The mother hurried over spewing apologies; which Harry all but ignored, only sparing her a nod. He didn’t really care, he had a mission. 

He was gaining on Malfoy. It brought back strange memories that he didn’t want to think about. Of a time when he used to always stalk Malfoy, but it was different now, Harry had good intentions now.

Wait. 

What were his intentions exactly?

Harry barely had time to register this thought before he was right behind Malfoy. 

“Hey, Malfoy.”

Malfoy looked over his shoulder to where Harry was standing, before turning fully around. He was correct in his bird form, Malfoy _ was _taller than Harry remembered, and meant that Harry had to look up to him. He was wearing black robes, which was a drastic change from the Muggle T-shirts and jeans Harry saw him last in. His hair was immaculately kept in the bun atop his head. He stood tall and confident, despite the sea of judging people that parted around him.

“Yes?” Confusion in his eyes, Malfoy looked down at Harry. 

“It’s Harry,” Harry whispered leaning up on his tiptoes closer to Malfoy so he could hear him. Harry didn’t want to say that too loud in case his Glamour was wearing off or someone heard and put two and two together. 

“Who?”

“Harry.”

Brows furrowing slightly, Malfoy tilted his head to the side and narrowed his eyes. 

Glancing around, Harry could tell people were _ pretending _not to look— evidently extremely interested in the going-ons of an Ex-Death Eater. Harry’s body made the decision before his brain had time to actually think it through. 

“Come on.” He grabbed Malfoy’s wrist and pulled. 

Whether out of shock or willingness, Malfoy put up relatively no fight as he was dragged into a side ally. With two large buildings either side, the ally was relatively dark, and a stall on the main street half obscured the entrance to the alley. Harry walked a little further before he stopped and turned back to Malfoy.

“What—” Malfoy spoke but Harry spoke over him.

“Hey, Malfoy.”

With Malfoy still frowning at him, Harry shifted a little nervous and was quite confused because Harry was expecting, _ maybe, _surprise. Well, Harry wasn’t sure what he had been expecting. 

Eyes just glided over him, like Malfoy was looking at someone he’d never seen befo—

He hadn’t seen Harry before because this wasn’t Harry at all, so he let the Glamour drop.

Recognition flashed across Malfoy’s face. His eyes widened and mouth parted ever so slightly. With his back to the main source of light in the alley most of Malfoy’s face was cast in shadow making him look even sharper. He didn’t say anything which made Harry nervous.

“It’s me,” Harry leaned in and pointed to himself, “Harry.”

“Yes I _ can _see that.” Malfoy pulled his wrist from Harry’s grip.

_ Shit_. Harry had still been holding Malfoy’s wrist, which was surprisingly warm. Harry always assumed that Malfoy would be cold to touch, like a cold blooded animal, like a Newt. But Harry was wrong, he was quite warm.

Harry looked up from his own hand, realising that he had paused too long.

Speaking up when they met eyes again Malfoy said, “Why have you dragged me into this dark alley, Potter?”

Good question. 

Valid question. 

One which Harry hadn’t thought of.

‘_Don’t say because you’re stalking him.’ _ his brain supplied. 

He was lucky he wasn’t drunk, like the time with Hermione and Ron, “I—uh, just wanted to say hi.” 

Malfoy looked more shocked by this than some random person suddenly becoming Harry. “Hi…?” Malfoy tilted his head again.

Harry had not thought this through enough. Now he was face to face with Malfoy and had no idea what to say, or what he was doing. 

“How are you?” Harry ran his hand through his hair. An awful habit, which always made his unruly hair even worse, but he never seemed to be able to shake it off. An anxious tick. His nervous one was pushing his glasses further up his nose.

“Fine, and yourself?” Malfoy was short with his words and seemed wary of Harry’s odd conversation.

“Yeah, I’m good, just, uh, you know, um, shopping.”

“Elegant with your words as always, Potter.”

Harry rolled his eyes, but the urge to _ fight _ Malfoy that he used to have as a teen was gone. 

“What are you up to? Still doing that landscaping thing?” Harry said, as casually as he could and Malfoy eyed him as if Harry was very suspicious.

“Yes… that is my _ job. _ Something that, if rumours are correct, you don’t have,” Malfoy said carefully, the edge of his mouth twitched up ever so slightly that if Harry blinked he would have missed it. 

“I have a job… sort of.” Harry shrugged.

Looking over his shoulder to the entrance of the alley and Malfoy turned back to Harry. He stood shoulders back and up to his full height, which meant that, at this proximity, Harry had to tilt his head up if he wanted to look him in the eye. Neither of them had stepped back following Malfoy pulling his wrist from Harry’s hand.

“I assume you didn’t drag me into this dark and damp ally to talk about jobs?” Malfoy raised an eyebrow.

“Uh, no, I, um— I thought that— um— it would be nice if we caught up?” Harry posed it as a question rather than a statement.

If Malfoy had been surprised both times before, they had nothing on this. Malfoy didn’t look surprised he looked _ shocked. _ Harry had never seen his mouth open _ that _ wide and had never noticed how really _ grey _ his eyes were. It was probably because they were so wide that he noticed they looked like storm clouds on the horizon. 

Malfoy seemed to get his composure back, “_We _ don’t ‘catch up’, Potter.” He gestured between the two of them as he spoke.

Harry shrugged and gave Malfoy a smile, “We could.” Convincing himself even though he had no clue what he was doing. 

Contemplating Harry for a few seconds, it was as if Malfoy was searching for something _ inside _of Harry, it was completely unnerving. However, a moment later it seemed as if he found it.

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

“_Okay.” _

Harry grinned, “Do you want to get a coffee sometime?” 

With the edges of his mouth tugging up a fraction, Malfoy nodded.

“Uh, cool.” Harry didn’t feel very cool.

“I will be awaiting your owl.” Malfoy turned around, striding to the end of the alley. He turned looked at Harry for a second before lifting is arm and giving Harry an awkward half-wave, before he disappeared around the corner. 

What had Harry just done?

He had dragged Malfoy into a dark alley, and invited him out to coffee, that’s what he had done. It was absurd and the strangest thing was that Malfoy had said _ yes _. No protest. 

Standing in a dim alley was not something Harry wanted to continue doing so he Apparated home.

***

Returning home, He hung around the house not doing very much. He cleaned the lounge room, since it was _ still _ a mess. He made tea, forgot he made it, reheated it, and forgot he made it again. When dinner time rolled around, Harry found he wasn’t hungry he was _ nervous. _

He hadn’t written to Malfoy yet. What was he supposed to say? Even so, he couldn’t just _ not _write to Malfoy, that would just make him a tosser. Asking someone to coffee then not contacting them. So, Harry sat down at his bench, pulled out some parchment, a quill and ink. Then he just stared at them.

Picking up the quill, he drafted a letter.

_ <strike>Dear</strike> _ _ Malfoy, _

_ It was _ <strike> _ lovely nice _ </strike> _ a surprise seeing you in Diagon Alley today. It has been _ <strike> _ too long _ </strike> _ a long time since I’ve seen you, _ <strike> _ is it obvious _ </strike> _ I don’t go out very often. _

_ Thank you for agreeing to get coffee with me _ _ ,<strike> I’m excited. I was hoping you wouldn’t mind </strike> _ _ Can we get coffee at a Muggle shop? <strike>I don’t go to wizarding areas</strike> _ <strike> _ as you probably know since they never have pictures of me anymore those stupid bastards, _ </strike> _ for obvious reasons. _

<strike> _ Eagerly awaiting your response, _ </strike>

<strike> _ Looking forward to hearing from you, _ </strike>

<strike> _ Kind Regards, _ </strike>

_ Harry _

Rereading his draft three times, he rewrote it without all the scribbled out lines. He tied it to his new owl’s leg and sent her on her way. 

There was no response that night.


	2. Chapter 2

Not hearing from Malfoy for three days, made Harry strangely anxious. Why hadn’t he replied? Had he changed his mind? Harry hadn’t been able to concentrate on his work across the three days, which was odd because whenever he felt anxious or nervous or _ anything _, he could always work and feel better. Except this time he was left only with one generic rock-shaped bit of balled wire. Not one of his finest pieces.

He deliberately hadn’t gone flying anywhere near where Malfoy had been the past three times, wanting to give him the benefit of the doubt. Not wanting Malfoy to laugh at Harry’s stupidity, even though Harry was a bird and he didn’t know it was Harry. But three days was long enough. Surely you would have time to write _ one sodding letter _across a three day period. 

So, Harry decided to go investigating. Which was where he was now. 

When he approached the first house he had seen Malfoy at he couldn’t see him there. Harry thought that, perhaps, Malfoy moved on to a new house, but a once around the entire house revealed him kneeling down behind some bushes. Harry landed on top of the large rock feature in the middle of the yard; the one that he crashed into the first time he met Malfoy as a bird.

It was too far away to make out the mumbling chants that were coming from him. Malfoy was working in a thin empty garden bed. He was dressed the same way as he had been the first three times, and a significant portion of the front of his hair had fallen across his face, which he occasionally tucked behind his ear only to have it fall out again and he would repeat the process.

Harry was content to watch Malfoy, a habit he had picked up in school— that was obviously the reason, _ habit_. Harry observed him for five minutes or so before Malfoy stood, knees or back cracking. Malfoy had patches of dirt on his jeans at his knees. A very inappropriate thought crossed Harry’s mind for a split second, but he shook it off.

“Oh! Gertrude, I was hoping to see you again.” Malfoy was much closer now. Probably because he was absolutely not thinking about Malfoy on his knees, Harry hadn’t noticed when he came closer.

Birds sometimes respond right? Harry cawed at him.

Malfoy grinned at Harry before jogging over to where his bag sat on the patio table. Malfoy tended to smile a lot when he was around Gertrude, very strange… Malfoy outwardly showing emotion.

“I know who you are!” Malfoy called over his shoulder.

Oh.

Fuck.

Merlin, _ no_. 

This was why Malfoy hadn’t returned his owl. 

He was _ so _fucked. 

Fumbling around with something Harry couldn't see for a second, Malfoy then turned around grinning. 

“You’re a Jackdaw.” Malfoy held up a large leather bound book. The front cover of the book read: _ Birds of Britain _and Malfoy looked quite proud. 

Harry felt like his entire head would snap and roll of his shoulders onto the ground. _That_ was what Malfoy meant when he said he knew who Harry was? Merlin, he thought his tiny little bird heart was going to give out. He had figured out _what kind of_ _bird_ Harry was. Not that he’s Harry Potter disguised as a bird. 

“Come over here Gertrude, I’ll tell you about yourself.” Malfoy was already flicking open a page which had been marked with ribbon. He walked over to the tree closest to the sculpture and plonked down, crossed his legs and placed the book in his lap; and looked to Harry expectantly. 

Highly unsure and aware of the eyes on him, Harry looked around. Malfoy had always made Harry feel a large range of, often intense, emotions—anger used to be a consistent one. However, recently the theme seemed to be confusion. Harry felt like he was losing the plot. 

_ What was happening to him??? _

Malfoy’s voice brought him out of his stupor, _ “Jackdaw, or _ _ Coloeus monedula, _ _ is the smallest of the crow family in the UK. Measuring thirty four to thirty nine centimetres in length with an average wingspan of seventy centimetres, they have an average of five years longevity. Jackdaws are identifiable by their distinct shiny black plumage, with a shawl-like area of silvery-grey feathers covering the back of the bird's neck. A further identifiable feature is their piercing white eyes, which set it apart from the other members of the carrion family.” _ Malfoy stopped reading from the book and looked up at Harry nodding. 

“You check all the boxes there. Shall we continue?” Malfoy looked at Harry expecting him to answer. So he gave him what he wanted and cawed at Malfoy, who seemed far too ecstatic to be talking to a bird.

“_They inhabit woodland, parkland, the cost, and urban areas— _So basically wherever you want to live, pretty greedy of you there, Gertrude.”

How _ dare _ Malfoy make fun of him —his brothers and sisters— Harry felt personally attacked by that and would not stand for it. He squawked indignantly at Malfoy, whose only reaction was to laugh. The git.

“Look!” Malfoy continued to ignore Harry’s outburst and hold up the book facing Harry, “They’ve got a picture of you in here, see!” Malfoy pointed a long finger at a picture of a Jackdaw, which was _ definitely _not Harry. “Well, you have that weird zigzag line on your face and this bird doesn’t— but maybe it’s your uncle? Uncle Gerald.”

He let out a choked laugh-squawk. _ Uncle Gerald. _ He _ had _ to be having Harry on. This was absolute insanity. Malfoy laughed _ with _ Harry’s strange caws. It was an odd moment— laughing at the same time. If he thought about it, he was sure that had _ never _ happened before. 

“This section is called _ Twelve Facts About Jackdaws_. Let’s skip to there shall we?” Malfoy said, looking up at Harry. 

Fuck it. 

Flying over to the tree Malfoy was leaning against, he landed on the lowest branch, closest to Malfoy where he could see the book over his shoulder.

“I knew you’d come round, eventually. Even says so in the book.” Malfoy turned slightly and looking up at him.

“_Fact one: Jackdaws love people. They are able to distinguish between different humans and love eye contact. Many jackdaws from urban areas form bonds with humans, resulting in high levels of trust. They have been known to visit the same houses if bonds are formed with Humans, generally via food.” _Malfoy paused reading the book here and looked up at Harry, “See Gertrude, I told you you’d come round. You can recognise me, and we have created a bond. We bonded over food,” Malfoy said, as if it was a fact. 

If Harry was a human he would have choked. He had absolutely _ not _ bonded with Malfoy, or created a bond, or whatever he wanted to call it.

“_There have been documented cases where Jackdaws who trust and have created strong bonds with humans allow their human counterparts to feed them from their hands, hold them, and even pet them.” _ Malfoy smiled and turned to Harry, “Maybe we could get to that stage, what do you think? I never used to be a trustworthy person, but I have changed and I am now, so maybe you could end up trusting me.” 

What was Harry supposed to do with that information? 

The Malfoy he had seen as a bird certainly was different to the one he used to know. He wasn’t _ that _ different when Harry met him as a human, he did agree to have coffee with Harry. But then again; he ignored Harry’s owl, and probably laughed about it with his friends. 

Maybe. 

Harry wasn’t so sure, but he ignored Harry’s owl so that was rude.

They spent the next fifteen minutes sitting under the tree, Malfoy reading Harry sections of his book on birds which he seemed to enjoy very much. He got excited about the different facts he read out, promising to bring Harry some fruit, seeds, and nuts next time as that’s what jackdaws eat. Seeming almost sad when he read that jackdaws mate for life, were very sociable, and often were seen flying and living with other jackdaws and birds, but he never saw Harry— Gertrude— with anyone else. Malfoy also likened him to a niffler because they love shiny things too, and he said if Harry was lucky he might bring something shiny next time.

Harry absolutely did _ not _ find this all very cute. Did. Not. 

Once Malfoy exhausted all his jackdaw facts, he got up to do some work in the garden bed. Harry followed him, not too close as that would be a little suspicious. Malfoy seemed to be happy with the explanation that they had bonded over food the past two times, so Harry wasn’t too nervous about their proximity.

Explaining everything he was doing to Harry, Malfoy continued working. As Harry watched, he learnt that Malfoy worked diligently and thoroughly. He knew a lot, too.

“Many people think that it is okay, and even _ advantageous _ to use charms on their plants,” Malfoy spoke while working, occasionally looking over to Harry, “Which it is absolutely not. Not in the long run, especially if you value and love your plants, and the quality of produce. Using charms like _ Engorgio _ and _ Fructus Edere _ ruins the integrity and longevity of the plant.

“If used on fruiting plants the produce will, despite being bigger, lose its overall taste. This is because— it’s a little hard to explain, but imagine that a plant’s produce— say an apple— is one, and the total amount of flavour for the apple is a five. Then use _ Engorgio _ and make the apple a ten, the flavour for the apple stays a five, but the total size of apple is now ten times bigger so now rather than the flavour’s five being divided by one, it is now divided by ten and thus the flavour density is only zero point five per one section, instead of the previous five. So it means that the taste would be only ten percent of what it originally was, and the same goes for nutrition … Does that make sense?” Malfoy paused here and looked at Harry, as if expecting an answer.

Running his beak across the branch he was currently standing on, he eyed Malfoy before he cawed an affirmative at him. Malfoy laughed at him and continued to talk about structural integrity of the plants.

“If one wishes to use magic to grow plants, the magic should not be used directly on the plants, but on the soil, water, and fertilizer you use.” Malfoy was placing seeds delicately into small dirt holes with his bare hands, “Adding magical long lasting nutrients to what you give the plant, is just one of the ways you can use magic to help your plants grow faster and bigger, without compromising the plant and produce.” 

Harry eyed the dirt on Malfoy’s hands and followed the dirt up his arm. A sharp pain shot through his chest, almost like he had been electrified for a split second, as he noticed the Mark for the first time. Malfoy’s arm pale, marred with dirt and black lines. Harry didn’t know what he thought; what he should think. So, he wrapped it in bubble wrap, placed it in a box, stamped ‘extremely fragile handle with care’ on the top, and put it behind the locked door in his mind with all the other things he didn’t want to think about.

The droning of Malfoy’s chatter became white noise and the world seemed to fade into splotches of colour. He was tuning out again. He used to do this often, not so much anymore now that he had his little vault in his head. 

“Gertrude.” Malfoy’s sharp voice pulled him out of whatever hole he was sinking into, “I’m going to have lunch now, care to join me?”

Leave. 

Put an end to it, go home. Forget about Malfoy. He didn’t return Harry’s letter, so he obviously had forgotten about Harry. Harry should do the same. 

And yet.

He wanted to have lunch with Malfoy. 

That’s why he had asked him to have coffee right? Why he sent the owl. The reason he had come back to stalk Malfoy; because he was mad that he didn’t return his owl so they could have coffee.

So, he did what any reasonable person would do, and decided he would have lunch with him. He would get his damn ‘catch up,’ even if he had to be a sodding bird. 

_ Why _Harry wanted it that much was something he would definitely ignore.

Looking up, Malfoy was already across the yard at the patio, Harry saw him use a wandless _ Scourgify. _Cocky bastard. Waiting until Malfoy pulled out food before going over seemed like the logical move; because Harry is very logical, thank you. Until Harry had eaten with Malfoy enough, it wouldn’t be believable if Harry just instantly went to follow him. 

Deliberately ignoring his brain telling him he needs to eat with Malfoy more, he watched him take out a sandwich. Deeming it safe for him to move closer, Harry flew over to the patio and landed on the back of the chair furthest from Malfoy. Not too close, they’re just beginning to bond. Nope. They’re not bonding. Harry’s just— He’s not bonding with Malfoy.

“I hope bread is okay again today.” Malfoy addressed Harry as he spoke, peeling back the wrapping, “Next time I’ll make sure there’s something more to your liking.” He pulled a piece of bread off, tossing it to Harry. It hit the back rest of the chair and fell down onto the seat.

Upgraded to _ Chair Bread_. No more _ Ground Bread _ for Harry. Jumping down, Harry picked up the food and ate it. From his new vantage point he couldn’t see Malfoy’s face. He could; however, see his _ long _ legs under the table. Harry only noticed because that’s all he could see, obviously. But, Merlin, how do people get legs that long? 

“It may sound foolish, but I thoroughly enjoyed both previous times we had lunch together.” Harry could hear Malfoy from where he sat, and could see the slight movement in his abdomen as he spoke and breathed, but Harry wasn’t looking, it was just right in front of him and there was nothing else there to look at, “I hope you are also enjoying it. I guess if you were not, you would not come back.”

Another small piece of bread fell from the sky as it hit the back of the chair and fell to where Harry was standing. At least it wasn’t _ Ground Bread_.

“Gertrude, do you ever have extremely strange things happen to you, and not really know how to react?” Malfoy asked him— Gertrude— and he—Harry— could absolutely relate. This situation being one of the, recently extremely Malfoy-centric, strange things that have been happening to him.

They fell into silence again, both seemingly pondering strange events that happen to them. A third piece of bread fell from the heavens, almost landing on Harry. 

“A few days ago, Gertrude, I had the most odd encounter, and I’m not sure what to do.” Malfoy shifted in his seat, he sounded a little tense. 

Harry wanted to see Malfoy’s expression to. So he flew back up to perch on the backrest of the seat, and looked at Malfoy. He had been looking down at his lunch with a frown on his face, but looked up when he saw Harry and gave him a small smile.

“I appreciate your support, I tried talking to Pansy but she didn’t help at all. I thought maybe talking things out with you would be more productive.” Malfoy rubbed the palm of the hand not holding the sandwich into his eye before throwing a piece of bread onto the table near Harry. 

Cautiously, Harry hopped from the chair to the table and ate the bread. 

“Three days ago, I ran into someone who I used to know,” Malfoy started, and Harry’s heart skipped a beat, he was _ not _ going to talk about Harry _ to _Harry was he?

“This person, used to know me when I was a bad person, you see.” Malfoy paused to look at Harry and throw him some more bread before he continued, “This person; Harry Potter, you must know him. _ Everyone _does. He will, more than likely, be in the history books forever.” Malfoy looked out across the yard.

This one way conversation was making Harry highly uncomfortable. What Malfoy thought about Harry— the stuff he would never actually tell him— was something that Harry should not be hearing.

If Malfoy wasn’t going to give him an explanation as to why he didn’t owl him back or even send an owl saying that he actually didn’t want to have coffee anymore, Harry would listen now and get his own answer. 

It was only logical.

“We used to be enemies, he and I.” Malfoy words soft, “We were horrible to each other. Gertrude, the hatred that brewed within me, the anger I had, the things I did…” 

Silence fell over them as Malfoy stopped talking. He didn’t eat either; only swallow and take a deep breath.

“I did so many things I am ashamed of, Gertrude, that time in my life— that me— is something that I can never wash away.” Malfoy looked back at Harry, his lips a tight line, brows drawn, and piercing grey eyes swimming, “That regret is something I will never be able to shake off, I will carry it for the rest of my life. That time has left scars, both physical ones and ones that cannot be seen.” Malfoy spoke calmly but his tone was strained.

Harry should leave. 

He shouldn’t be here to hear this. 

He had no right. 

As a child he followed Malfoy because he thought he was up to something— like in sixth year; when he was. But now there was no return of Voldemort and Malfoy wasn’t a Death Eater, just a man. A man who was working hard, trying his best, and confiding in a little bird because no one else would listen or have lunch with him. Shame burned acidic in Harry’s stomach. It had all started because Harry had thought he was _ up to something_. When had everyone else grown into adults, and passed the war? How was he the only one left behind?

He was drawn out of his own thoughts by Malfoy saying, “But scars they only show what has happened; what the path you have travelled held. It is not the future. I live by this every day.” Malfoy swallowed and continued, “Otherwise, how am I supposed to get out of bed? I was a truly horrific human. I can’t think of a redeeming characteristic I had; so now I work every day to make sure I will _ never _ become that person again.”

Putting his own feelings aside, Harry just _ listened _to Malfoy. 

“But when I saw Harry Potter the other day, it all came crashing back.” Malfoy took a big breath and held it for what felt like an eternity before exhaling and continuing, “All the awful things I’ve done in my life. Every awful thing I’ve done to him, to his friends, to _ everyone_. It is all consuming sometimes, you know?”

Harry did know. Everything was. That’s why he has a vault. The one where he puts _ everything _ and locks it away.

“The kindest, most selfless, bravest, foolhardy, loving boy to have ever looked in my eyes and I tore him down, _ every day _ — How was I not expelled from that school? And you know what the stupidest thing is, Gertrude?” Malfoy paused eyes slightly watery and looked Harry in the eye; Harry was worried he would suffocate under the gaze, “He was _ kind _ to me. What a fucking idiot.”

What? 

“After all our history— everything that happened— as if he forgave me, he said he wanted to ‘catch up’, isn’t that insane?” Malfoy shook his head, “I have worked every day for the last few years, to make myself a better person— I don’t know if he knows that, but that’s not the point— I didn’t think anyone who endured the awful things I did to him, would ever forgive anyone for that. Yet here we are. Harry James Potter man of fame he did not wish, eyes of emerald, and a heart full of forgiveness.”

This was basically Malfoy’s inner dialogue about Harry, and he was just sitting there listening to him speak. He should not be hearing this.

Had Harry forgiven Malfoy? He wasn’t sure. 

He wanted to have coffee to catch up, does that mean he had? The past three times Harry saw him— as a bird— he had seen the new Draco Malfoy that Malfoy had worked so hard to become and was so proud of. Did that mean he forgave him?

Maybe if Harry got to know him as Harry— not Gertrude— he could.

Sighing, Malfoy stopped speaking in favour for picking at his sandwich, eating some and throwing some more to Harry. If his brain wasn’t so preoccupied by the conversation, it would have told him that he had once again been upgraded, this time to _ Table Bread _— but it didn’t. Instead he studied Malfoy who was deep in thought, not seeming the villain Harry used to think he was.

“After all the awful things I did to him, how am I supposed to look him in the eye?”

Knowing full well it was a question that a bird would have no answer for, Harry felt he _ needed _ to reply so he opened his beak and let out the softest caw he could manage. 

Pressing his lips into a tight line Malfoy looked up at Harry and took a deep breath.

Silence. 

It made Harry nervous. 

Sure, Harry wasn’t sure what he was actually intending when he cawed at Malfoy, but he thought that Malfoy would have said something in return. That’s how it worked before. 

However, Harry was never one to give up.

Caw.

Still nothing.

Hopping up and down, he tried to get Malfoy’s attention but he wasn’t _ seeing _ Harry.

This time Harry hopped even closer across the table.

_ Caw_.

Eyes focusing on Harry, Malfoy looked _ sad_. Harry had seen Malfoy worried, distraught, hysterical, and scared; but never sad. It made something turn in his stomach. But Harry took that, put it in a box labelled ‘Malfoy’, and banished it to the vault like everything else. 

“I haven’t replied to him, it’s been three days.” Malfoy spoke again and tossed Harry the last of his sandwich, “I wrote so many replies that I had to start vanishing them as the bin beside my desk was too full. I don’t know what to say.”

Malfoy wasn’t ignoring him, not intentionally; he didn’t know what to say. 

“What if I reply now, and Harry has rethought and in the last three days receded his offer?”— did Malfoy just call him— “What if he doesn’t want to get coffee anymore because I took so long? What if he never really wanted to get coffee, and just wanted to laugh at me thinking that we could be friends? What if it was a prank to see how low I have sunken? What if it was a joke? What if it was Pansy in a Glamour? What if—”

Having enough of Malfoy second guessing himself, _ and _Harry, Harry did what he was — and always had been— good at: speaking over Malfoy. Well, squawking, but same thing.

The outburst made Malfoy jump. Then laugh. 

“I know, it’s stupid isn’t it, but,” Malfoy had a small smile on his face that wavered slightly, “what if I ruin my chance? Again.”

That was definitely not what Harry was expecting him to say.

“I want to be his friend. I did all those years ago when we were eleven. Before there was a war, and hatred, and evil dictators, I just wanted to be friends,” Malfoy drew his feet up onto the chair and rested his chin on his knees.

_ He just wanted to be friends. _

Harry should have known that, it was obvious when he actually thought about it. But thinking about things like that meant he had to take that wall down, the one that his lessons with Snape all those years ago helped him put up. So he hadn’t thought about it, and he wasn’t sure that he wanted to think about it now either. 

Silence stretched on and neither of them moved.

Deciding to leave then, Harry cawed twice at Malfoy, stretched his wings and was about to fly away as Malfoy spoke, “Thanks, Gertrude. The past doesn’t define us anymore.”

Harry paused, but he thought better of staying, so he took off and landed on a branch. He turned back to Malfoy who gave him an awkward half-wave.

“I hope to see you again,” Malfoy said softly, and Harry thought that perhaps he was imagining it.

Not lingering any longer Harry put Malfoy behind him and took off. 

***

That evening Harry was interrupted by scratching at his window. A large well groomed, and frankly snooty, owl glared at him through the window. Harry didn’t need to have seen the owl before to know whose it was. Sliding his glasses up his nose, Harry opened the window and the owl whacked Harry with its wing as it flew through the window, landing on his bench. Sticking it’s leg out the owl started picking the meatballs out of Harry’s spaghetti. 

Taking the letter and shoo-ing the bird away from his now meatball-less spaghetti and out the window, Harry sat down to read the letter. The writing was neat, in long loopy letters. It read:

_ Potter, _

_ A muggle coffee shop sounds adequate. I highly doubt the media reaction to you having coffee with an ex-Death Eater would be desirable. _

_ I can make space in my schedule this Friday, 3pm. _

_ DM _

Rereading the letter twice Harry wrote his own letter.

_ Malfoy, _

_ I know one _ <strike> _ I think you’ll like _ </strike> _ that is _ <strike> adequate </strike> _ nice. _

_ <strike>I thought you already knew that I have never cared about what the media reactions to me are</strike>. _ _ I don’t give the media the time of day. It’s a waste of time when I could do more desirable things like bang my head against the wall. (You would lose less brain cells doing that anyway) _

_ Friday sounds good. If you come to the Redding Apparition Point I can side-along you. _

<strike> _ Looking forward to it, _ </strike>

<strike> _ See you Friday, _ </strike>

_ Harry _

_ P.S. You don’t need to feed your owl, it already ate _ ** _my _ ** _ dinner. _

Happy with his reply, Harry sent it with his own owl.

Less than half an hour later Harry’s owl returned with another letter attached to her leg.

_ Potter, _

_ Having dinner with a group of dementors would be more enjoyable than reading the Prophet. _

_ I will see you at 3. _

_ DM _

_P.S. It is your own fault for not providing Nmyfabothis_ _with a reward for her efforts. _

_ P.P.S. She did enjoy _ <strike> _ your _ </strike> _ her meal. _

Huffing a laugh and rolling his eyes at Malfoy’s letter, Harry placed his empty dinner plate in the sink and headed to his workshop. Despite it being late, he now had a renewed energy and decided to put it to good use. 

Friday was four days away.


	3. Chapter 3

When one thirty on Friday rolled around, Harry realised he was unreasonably nervous. Staring into his closet he lamented that he hadn’t gone out very often over the past few years. He didn’t have many nice clothes. He had his formal robes stored in the spare bedroom, but they were formal attire, for balls and charity events— not that he went.

Harry didn’t have to dress super nicely thought, right? It was just coffee. With his childhood nemesis. What _ does _ one wear in that situation though? 

Forgoing his favourite trackies and worn jeans, he chose a pair of basically new black jeans. They were tighter than the other ones he owned—so less comfortable—and thus never used. He wore them with a white shirt and his nicest maroon zip-up jacket. It wasn’t a dressy outfit but nicer that what he’d worn in a very long time. He didn’t even bother trying to tame his hair. It always had been useless. He also lost track of the amount of times he pushed his glasses up his face. Stupid nervous tick. 

Once changed he hung around the house not doing anything until 2:55 when he decided he couldn’t wait any longer and Apparated straight to the Redding Apparating Point. It was empty and silent; no one used it, which is exactly why he chose it.

At exactly 3pm, Malfoy Apparated into the alley. 

Malfoy was wearing a nice pair of black slacks and a light grey sweater— and because it was Malfoy, Harry assumed was made out of cashmere, or unicorn hair, or woven from storm clouds by Merlin himself— it just looked so _ soft_. 

“See anything you like, Potter?” Malfoy cleared his throat and spoke. 

Almost choking, Harry looked up to see Malfoy with a smirk on his face, head tilted to one side. Harry shook his head and spluttered out some undefinable sounds.

“I thought we’d both gotten past that whole, ‘staring at each other while we stalk’ thing, perhaps I was wrong…” Malfoy laughed.

“NO!” He ran a hand through his hair. Harry was not ready to be knocked off kilter like this, he even went over some great small talk points, and yet— sodding Malfoy always tried to ruin his plans.

“No, you haven’t gotten over it…?” Malfoy was smirking full force now, and looked like he was enjoying it far too much.

“No! To— no to you know—the first question! The one about seeing— seeing something I like,” Harry said, shaking his head vehemently he could feel his face heating up. He slid his glasses up his nose.

“You don’t like me?” Malfoy had the nerve to looked offended and upset; but Harry could see the sparkle in his eye, and the slight twitch at the edge of his mouth that said otherwise, “Why did you invite me on a date then?” 

“_DATE_?” Harry practically shrieked. Had he accidentally asked Malfoy on a _ date_?

Still looking offended and upset Malfoy tilted his head to one side and put a hand on his hip, and for a second— one terrifying second— Harry had _ no idea _ what to do, and then Malfoy laughed. 

He laughed and laughed until his breath came in gasps, and Harry just looked on stunned. Malfoy looked up with hints of tears at the edges of his eyes. 

“Ah, Potter, you’ve always been easy to mess with, but that was _ too easy_.” Malfoy took a few steps closer to Harry and clapped him on the shoulder twice. Malfoy had never touched him before, not in a friendly way, and once again it threw Harry off. He pushed his glasses up again.

“Come on then, I was promised a nice muggle cafe…” Malfoy held his arm out slightly.

“Okay…” Harry reached out and grabbed Malfoy’s arm; the sweater feeling incredibly soft under his fingers— _ definitely storm clouds, _ “Ready?” 

A nod from Malfoy and Harry Apparated them into a small dark alley. It wasn’t technically an apparating point, but then again Harry never really listened to rules. Malfoy’s raised eyebrow told Harry that Malfoy knew that, too.

“It’s this way.” Harry started walking, “It’s called Misty Brews, a local cafe with great service.” Malfoy just nodded and followed him.

Neither said anything on the two minute walk to the cafe which was small and homey, it smelt like coffee and sweet cakes. Harry held the door open for Malfoy. 

“Harry, we thought you’d fallen off the face of the earth! It’s been months, I’ve missed you!” Jack—the regular barista— pouted at him for a minute before grinning. “Nell, is out today, she’ll be livid she missed you.”

“Hey Jack,” Harry smiled at him, and glanced at Malfoy who was standing there slightly awkwardly, “This is my,” Harry paused for a split second, “friend from school, Draco Malfoy.” Harry gestured to Malfoy.

Seeming genuinely surprised at the introduction Malfoy gave a nod to Jack who in turn gave Malfoy one of his trademark grins, Jack was a human version of a big goofy golden retriever.

“Nice to meet you, Draco. Any friend of Harry’s is a friend of ours.” Jack held out his hand and Malfoy shook it, “You both sit down, and I’ll be over to take your orders in a second.” 

Harry lead Malfoy to a table in the corner next to the window; it was the seat that he sat in on the occasions he came. They sat down and looked at the menus for a while before Jack came over to take their order.

“The usual Harry?” Harry nodded, “Draco?” Jack turned to Malfoy.

“Hmm, I’ll have the Rose Infused French Earl Grey, please.” Malfoy closed the menu.

“Malfoy!” Malfoy almost jumped at the exclamation and Harry gave him a sheepish grin as a sort of apology, “You _ have _ to try the sticky toffee pudding! It’s so good.” Harry smiled, nodding at Malfoy; who looked highly unsure but gave a nod anyway. 

“Alright back in a moment.” 

Silence fell over the table like a blanket, which wasn’t necessarily awkward, but it wasn’t comfortable and they sat in it for a while.

“So—”

“Um—”

Both spoke at the same time, before falling silent.

About a minute went by, before Jack’s laugh cut through the silence as he placed their drinks of the table. 

“A large Cappuccino with one pump of hazelnut syrup, for Harry, and a pot of Rose Infused French Earl Grey, for Draco— I’d let it sit for a little longer before drinking.” Jack nodded to the pot in front of Malfoy.

Following a ‘thanks’ from both men, he turned and walked away but immediately came back.

“You know, not only do we provide, charming.” Jack winked at them, “fast and reliable service, delicious beverages, and scrumptious cakes, we also offer conversation starter cards,” Jack reached into his apron he placed a small pile of colourful cards on the table.

Harry spluttered, and Malfoy looked just as shocked as Harry felt.

Grinning mischievously, Jack said, “I’ll be back with your cakes in just a moment.”

Once Jack had retreated, Harry risked a glance at Malfoy whose face was unreadable, but he gave a soft huff like laugh as their eyes met.

Unlike when he had seen Malfoy before, he had his hair out, brushed over in a great sweep to one side, which ended halfway down his ear. He looked far more casual— approachable— like this. Harry decided he liked Malfoy’s hair out more than up in the bun. It looked so soft, as soft at his sweater._ Maybe they were both made out of clouds? _

Jack brought their cakes over and left without a word.

They were quiet for a moment.

“Okay, but seriously, who comes to a cafe and orders _ tea? _” Harry looked down at Malfoy’s tea cup.

“Wh— me?” Malfoy looked shocked, “wha— is there any issue with that?” Malfoy recovered and raised an eyebrow.

“Yes,” Harry said.

“No, there’s not.” 

“Yes, there is.” Harry smirked. Riling up Malfoy was always something he was good at. 

“There absolutely is not, and you know that, you tosser.” Malfoy crossed his arms and leaned in so his elbows rested on the table. 

“There is,” Harry said, definitely. 

“Okay, humour me, what is it then?” Malfoy’s eyes danced, enjoying their banter.

“Well, you come to a cafe, to enjoy the mastery and skill of the staff, and the drinks they create.” Harry paused, but Malfoy just raised an eyebrow so he continued, “Take a coffee; they start from scratch, grinding the beans from a large selection, all the way to pouring the milk. It all takes skill, Malfoy. I am not really paying for the ingredients, I’m paying for the expertise of the staff.”

“And..?” 

“Well, obviously, there is no labour or skill required in making your tea. Just pour boiling water, then wait. You could do that at home.” Malfoy nodded slowly, listening to Harry.

“Yes, but—” Malfoy began speaking, but Harry cut him off

“You know I’m right.” 

Malfoy just shook his head.

“I am.” 

“How about we see what our lovely friend Jack has to say on the topic.” Malfoy looked over to where Jack was wiping down a table.

“No! But you know I’m right!” 

“Perhaps, there is not much skill required to make a pot of tea, but that is not what I bought the tea for, perhaps I don’t like coffee?” Malfoy said, and suddenly Harry felt a little guilty.

“Do you?” he had to ask.

“Do I what?”

“Not like coffee?”

Malfoy laughed, “I do like coffee.”

“Well then why did you order tea?!” Harry scrunched up his eyes in a glare.

“Because, I liked the sound of the tea, and I wanted to try it.” Malfoy stated it as if it were a fact.

“Yes, well, why don’t you just buy some next time you go shopping and have it at home? It’d be about the same price, but you’d get lots more, _ and _ you could get a skillfully made coffee here.” Harry was totally winning this argument.

“No.” Malfoy shook his head and Harry opened his mouth to retort but he continued, “If I did that, I could end up with a whole heap of tea that I may not like. This is the safest way to try new things.”

“That’s insane.” Harry just laughed and shook his head, of course Malfoy would find a ‘safe way’ to try new _ tea_. 

“Not it’s not. It’s logical and thought through, unlike most things you do.” Malfoy laughed as he spoke and Harry pouted; but honestly it was a fair cop so he couldn’t say anything. After all this whole coffee with Malfoy thing was not thought through at all.

They both drank from their drinks, and Malfoy hummed.

“Was the tea worth the incredible risk?” Harry tilted his head and tried to keep his face serious.

Rolling his eyes Malfoy laughed, and Harry had to tear his eyes away from the curve of Malfoy’s lips. 

“Yes, it was a great risk but the payout was worth it.”

In a much more comfortable atmosphere they both tried some of the sticky toffee pudding.

“Merlin, Potter, this is scandalously good.” Harry looked up from his plate just in time to see Malfoy swipe his tongue across his lower lip and pick up a few crumbs sitting there. 

“Yeah, it’s awesome, isn't it?” Harry wrenched his eyes from Malfoy’s lips and back down at his plate. Malfoy’s only response was a hum. 

Harry finished half of his cake before either of them spoke, and he glanced at the cards on the edge of the table.

“Wanna see what kind of things they think are good conversation starters?” Harry said, and Malfoy nodded, so he picked them up and flipped over the top one.

“Heath and jobs of Mutual friends.” Harry looked at Malfoy hesitantly, they didn’t really have mutual friends did they? 

“How’s Granger?” 

Shocked for a brief moment and aware of Malfoy’s eyes on him, Harry took a sip of his coffee to cover it, and answered; and they fell into pleasant talk about their — mutual friends wasn’t the correct word— ‘people who they both know.’

Once they exhausted that conversation— it wasn’t very long as they steered clear of any touchy people, Malfoy flipped over another card.

“What is one of your defining moments…” Malfoy paused looking significantly paler, “Well, I think we both kno—”

“In the last twelve months.”

Watching Harry carefully, Malfoy nodded and they both went silent. Harry realised his mistake though, he hasn’t really _ done _anything in the last twelve months. 

“My company being selected as the number one landscaping company in Britain.” Malfoy smiled and Harry nodded. It was a very impressive feat, especially as he hadn’t used money and his usual sneaky Malfoy ways to get there. 

“You?” Malfoy prompted but Harry didn’t really have an answer, so he just shrugged.

“What, you don’t have a single event that helps define you in the last twelve months?” Malfoy looked completely shocked.

“Well it was fifteen months ago… but I guess when I had an exhibition at the Tate Modern gallery in London.” Harry tapped his finger on the edge of his fork and looked out the window. He smiled at the memory; it felt amazing having his art there.

“Your what? Where?” Malfoy’s voice brought Harry back to the cafe.

“My art, at the Tate,” Harry said, slower and more clearly.

“No I heard you the first time. _ Your art_.” Harry nodded so Malfoy continued, “As in, art-art, that you know, an _ artist _ makes.” Malfoy gave Harry a pointed look as he spoke as if trying to get Harry to understand what art and artist meant, as if Harry had no clue. 

“Yes, as in art-art, specifically sculptures, made by an artist-artist—me.” Harry shrugged, it always made him feel awkward when people had this kind of reaction. That was a small part of the reason he didn’t make his art under the name _ ‘Harry Potter'. _

“Bullshit.” Malfoy shook his head.

“Wha—” 

“There is no way ‘The Chosen One’ is an artist—a sculptor—and it not be the front page of the Prophet for months.” Malfoy shook his head, eyeing him warily. 

“It’s true.”

“I don’t believe you, not one bit.”

“I am.” Harry nodded resolutely.

“If you are then, how is it that I haven’t heard about it.” Malfoy leaned back, crossing his arms.

“I sculpt under a pseudonym.”

“I didn’t know you knew such a complicated word, Potter.”

“Shove off Malfoy, I do, and it’s true.” Harry no venom in either of their words so Harry just smiled.

“I’ll believe it when I see it.” Malfoy took a sip of his tea, looking very pleased with himself.

“Okay, then. Let’s go.” Harry took the last bite of his cake and downed the rest of his coffee. Harry James Potter never backed down from a challenge. 

When he looked up Malfoy was just staring at him in shock, eyes wide and lips parted slightly. Harry stood up and walked over to the counter, paid for both his and Malfoy’s food and drinks, and thanked Jack. Harry reached the table again, Malfoy hadn’t moved, but was following Harry with his eyes.

“Come on then, I don’t have all day.” It was a lie, he did have all day. He never really did anything other than sculpt and fly—(stalk Malfoy). 

This seemed to draw Malfoy out of his stupor and he pulled out coin purse and fumbled with it quickly, pulling out some pounds and holding them out to Harry, who just shook his head.

“But—”

“I’m a famous sculptor, remember?” laughing, Harry gave Malfoy a wink, “Hurry up and finish so we can leave.”

Malfoy finished his tea and cake and they both left the cafe, with a wave, a ‘thanks’ to Jack, and a promise to come back when Nell was working. They walked back to the alley in silence. Pausing only for a second to think about the state of Grimmauld Place—relatively messy but not insanely so— Harry held out his arm for Malfoy to grab for a side-along.

“Potter, where are we going?” Malfoy didn’t take his arm.

“My house.”

“Why?”

“To see my sculptures.”

“Why?”

“So you believe me?”

“Yes, but why?”

That was a good question. Why did it matter if Malfoy believed him about being a sculptor or not? Harry didn’t have an answer so he just shrugged.

Giving him a nod, Malfoy took his arm and the next moment they were standing in the entrance of twelve Grimmauld Place. 

The entrance wasn’t particularly messy, but it wasn’t clean. Harry never got around to redecorating the house, but did remove all of the _ less desirable _ pureblood antiques, well the ones Kreacher let him get rid of. He gave Kreacher a sock, and then a scarf, and then a shirt, and then a jumper, and then a jacket, but Kreacher never left. Harry knew it was his home too—it always had been—so Harry gave Kreacher the third and fourth floors, which made him happy. As long as he didn’t roam around where Harry kept his mess it was like having a housemate you never saw, or rats in the ceiling—heard but not seen. 

As they walked down the hall towards the large dining room on the ground floor, Kreacher Apparated in front of them.

“Harry, has brought a guest. You don’t bring guests.” Kreacher squinted at Harry suspiciously and then looked at Malfoy, “A black descendant no less...What are you planning?” 

“Nothing! I’m just showing Malfoy my art.” Harry held his hands up defensively, he didn’t want another meatloaf incident.

“Such a waste, that foolish ‘art.’ This used to be a grand house, reduced to the art studio of a recluse and one without a single drop of Black blood, even this Malfoy would be better than you!” Kreacher threw his spindly arms up wildly, Harry had never been able to calm Kreacher down when he worked himself up like this.

“Kreacher that’s no—” Harry spoke, but Kreacher apparated away and Harry sighed.

“I see your house elf respects you,” Malfoy laughed, but lacked any true malicious intent. 

“He’s not _ my _ house elf.” Harry shrugged, “I gave him plenty of clothes trying to get rid of him, but he refused. It’s his house too. Besides he generally stays on his floors.”

“His _ floors_?” Malfoy followed Harry as he walked towards the big doors that lead into the old large dining room.

“Yeah, he has the third and fourth floors. It’s not like I need it, I don’t really own anything.” Harry glanced at Malfoy shrugging, “Besides, I wanted all that creepy pureblood stuff and annoying portraits out, and he wouldn’t let me get rid of them, I said if they were all collected and placed on the third and fourth floor, I wouldn’t care.”

Snorting at the mention of ‘creepy pureblood stuff’ Malfoy listened to Harry’s explanation, and stopped as they reached the large wooden doors. 

“Makes sense.”

Surprised at Malfoy’s quick acceptance of his story, Harry opened the door. 

It opened up to a large open space room; there was a pottery wheel in one corner, a large half finished wire sculpture of a human in the back of the room. Along the edges of the room there were many benches and workspaces, with a multitude of various tools and materials on them. On the large bench in the middle of the room sat the half-human half-dragon sculpture he had worked on after first seeing Malfoy. It had been fired, and he was contemplating whether or not to paint the deep grey sculpture. There were a large number of finished clay items, six small wire sculptures he’d been working on as a set piece, and a hexagonal glass item he’d done a couple of months back, sitting on the workbench next to the door. Harry liked working with clay and wire the most, but he dabbled in other materials, too. There was clay and wire, along with some paper drafts and other miscellaneous items littering the floor. It was _ very _ untidy. 

“Sorry, it’s a bit mess—”

“Did you do all of this?” Malfoy stepped into the room.

“Yeah…” Harry scratched his neck, a little embarrassed at the slight awe he detected in Malfoy’s voice. 

Taking a walk around the room, Malfoy carefully studied all of Harry’s works—finished and incomplete— with Harry following him. Despite the initial shock, Malfoy schooled his features into a neutral thinking face, which Harry couldn’t read for the life of him. They finished the slow walk, at the dragon sculpture in the middle; standing in silence, Malfoy studying the sculpture and Harry studying Malfoy. Something that Harry was doing a lot lately. Something that he wasn’t quite ready to admit that he enjoyed doing.

“This is my favourite,” Malfoy said, finally and turning to Harry.

“Oh, um, thanks, it’s not finished. I can’t figure out if I want to paint it or not.” Harry waved his hands around the sculpture, “I would like to highlight and accent some of the features, but I worry that too much paint would draw away from the sculpture itself, although the issue would be that without paint you can’t draw and the eye of the viewer as well, but I can’t think of any colours that would actually suit it, it’s grey and if I were to paint some bits red, or green, or yellow, or even blue, it would just look _ wrong_, but browns and blacks and whites—relatively neutral colours also don’t seem to fit—so it’s just been sitting there for— ” Harry clamped his mouth shut so forcefully his teeth clinked with the force.

He always gets like this when talking about his art, he could talk forever. Now was not the time to ramble on about his art. Pushing his glasses into place, he glanced at Malfoy, who was watching Harry and had a small amused smile on his face. 

“I think some silver or gold would look nice, perhaps even both.” Malfoy turned back to the sculpture.

“It could work…” Harry contemplated Malfoy’s suggestion, trying to envision the sculpture in his mind’s eye. 

“Do you sell your work?” 

“Sell…” Harry was still trying to work out a number of different options with the paint. Silver eyes would look nice. Maybe gold along the spikes on the spine.

“Yes, Potter. Sell. Do you sell your work?” Malfoy waved a hand in front of Harry to grab his attention.

“Yeah, I do. Sorry. I create and sell under the name James Baker. I don’t keep the money though, I don’t need it. It goes to a variety of charities, the Orphans of War being a major one,” Harry shrugged. He turned back to Malfoy who was looking at him with a hint of a smile.

“If you’re giving the money to charity, why not sculpt under your own name and earn much more? Surely that’s a better way of raising money?” Malfoy said, like he was giving Harry some great advice that he had never heard before.

“It’s not _ about _ the money. I wasn’t even selling them to begin with. After the War I just— there were a lot of feeling that I wouldn’t—couldn’t— I’d never _ made _ anything. In primary school, every year they would make a Father’s Day and a Mother's Day card, but you know— and one time I gave one to Uncle Vernon and he just ripped it up, threw it in the fire, and locked me in my cupboard, so I didn’t make anything after that.”

"In your what?"

"Cupboard."

With a frown on his face, Malfoy opened his mouth to speak, but Harry spoke again.

“But after the War, I didn’t want to be an Auror, or anything really. So I took up _ making things. _ And well, it absorbed everything, all the feelings and shit, you know?” Harry glanced at Malfoy who nodded, “It took all that stuff, and it turned it into things. It was only after the house was overflowing with things I’d made, that Hermione and Ron convinced me to go into galleries and sell my work.” Harry shrugged because he felt awkward telling Malfoy, but in some bizarre way he also felt like he _ had _ to tell him. 

“You’re very talented.”

“Oh, um, thanks.” Harry scratched his finger along the seam on the leg of his jeans.

“If you’re going to sell this eventually, I’d like to buy it.” Malfoy pointed to the sculpture on the table.

Floored by Malfoy, once again, Harry just nodded.

“I’ll let you know.”

“Do you have any other finished pieces?”

“Yeah, on the first floor.”

Leading Malfoy out of the room and to the first floor, where he had turned most of the rooms into space for displaying his art and a cosy living room, Harry pointed out various pieces he had around the house, along with two paintings he had done. They spent the next half hour or so walking around the house with Harry explaining his art and Malfoy attentively listening and even complementing them sometimes. 

They finished in the small bedroom-turned-art-storage-space on the second floor.

“POTTER! What in Merlin’s good name is _ THAT? _” Malfoy’s shriek made Harry jump, drawing his gaze.

“What’s what?” Harry walked to where Malfoy was standing looking out the window.

“That.” Malfoy waved aggressively at the window, and when Harry looked down he realised why.

The Yard. 

It was large, but had become overrun by plants, grass and weeds. The paths were overgrown, flowers had died, plants had self seeded, garden beds buried under bushes. He almost never went outside, unless it was in some way related to his art. 

“I should have known from your workshop how your yard would look.”

“Hey! I don’t go into my garden!” Harry crossed his arms. How dare Malfoy come into his home and criticise his garden.

“Exactly! What a waste, it could be glorious, and yet it’s—” Malfoy didn’t finish his sentence he just waved his hand down at the yard. 

“Well, if _ you _ have such a problem with it, why don’t _ you _fix it?” Harry frowned.

“Are you asking me to do your garden, Potter?” Malfoy looked amused, and it threw Harry off again.

“Um, maybe—I guess?”

What on earth was Harry doing?

“Well then, I guess I accept.”

“What?”

“Are you hard of hearing, Potter?” Malfoy chuckled to himself like he had made a very clever joke.

“What? No!” Harry said, defending himself quite badly if Malfoy’s grin was anything to go by.

“I am the number one landscaping company in Britain—”

“So, you keep saying—” Harry muttered under his breath, but Malfoy just raised an eyebrow and continued.

“— so you should expect great things, but anything would be better than the mess you have there.” Malfoy flicked his wrist smoothly his hand sweeping over the garden below. 

“I would expect no less from you.”

“You know, Potter. We get on quite well when we’re not on separate sides.”

“Well, it is possible to overcome a past of animosity if both parties are willing.” Harry finished speaking and froze. He realised his mistake, he directly quoted Malfoy. A quote that Harry supposedly never heard before. 

Shit.

They locked eyes.

Had Malfoy’s eyes always been that grey?

Eyes don’t really sparkle like that in real life, must be some weird charm Malfoy uses.

Harry should really look away.

Now.

Or now.

Definitely now.

Huffing out a small breath akin to a laugh, Malfoy shook his head with a slight smile on his face.

“We think eerily alike.”

Heart beating painfully fast in his chest, Harry just shrugged it off and looked out the window. That had been far too close for Harry’s liking.

The garden was a real mess, he’s never had a need to go out into it. He doesn’t have people come over, and when he’s home he’s reading and sleeping in front of the fire or in his workshop. He thought about selling the place after the war, but Sirius had given it to him, he could never get rid of it. But did he really need the garden done? No one went there. 

“Are you sure you can fix that mess?” Harry feigned scepticism, of course Malfoy could. Harry had seen the half-finished gardens he’d worked on— they were lovely— there was no doubt in his mind that it would look amazing once Malfoy finished with it. 

“Are you doubting my skill, Potter?” 

“Have you seen the garden?”

“Yes, and it will haunt me in my sleep.”

They both laughed and Harry could feel Malfoy’s eyes on him as he looked out the window. For a considerable amount of time, they stayed like that— Harry looking at the garden, Malfoy looking at Harry. Malfoy cleared his throat, and Harry turned to him. Malfoy had a pink tinge to his cheeks and didn’t quite meet Harry’s eye.

“Well, I must be going.”

“Yes, you’re a very in demand man. Thank you for gracing someone like me with your precious time.” Harry reached out and touched Mafoy’s arm as he thanked him. 

“I may be in demand, but I can always make time for the Saviour of the Wizarding World,” Malfoy said with a wink.

Did Harry just _ flirt _ with Malfoy? 

And the bigger question: _ did Malfoy just flirt back? _

Once Malfoy turned around and started to walk towards the door, Harry allowed himself half a second of panicked confusion before he followed Malfoy to the entrance.

“Potter.”

“Malfoy.”

With a nod Malfoy Apparated out of 12 Grimmauld Place.

***

_ Potter, _

_ Today was surprisingly pleasant. Dare I say, I am actually looking forward to working on your garden. _

_ The earliest I could start working is Monday. (I am a busy man, don’t forget.) _

_ I do suggest we meet again before then and discuss how you would like it. _

_ DM _

_ P.S. Please give Nmyfabothis something for her diligence and efforts in bringing you your letter. She enjoyed your pasta last time, I wonder if she will enjoy your dinner today. _

Harry read the letter and despite knowing Malfoy was talking about the garden, the line ‘how you would like it’ made stomach tickle slightly.

_ Malfoy, _

_ Today was nice. I’m also looking forward to it, mostly to see that mess become not a mess, but I guess the company isn’t too bad either. ;) _

_ Let me know when you’d like to meet. I’m pretty flexible about times. _

_ Harry _

_ P.S. Nmyfabothis stole my salami before I could give her anything. Train your owl, Malfoy. _

_ P.S.S. WTF kind of name is Nmyfabothis??? _

_ Potter, _

_ I can make time, Tuesday lunch. I can go over and we can look at some options. _

_ DM _

_ P.S. Nmyfabothis is trained very well, you just don’t know how to deal with Animals. _

_ P.P.S. Pansy named her. Only after a year did she tell me that Nmyfabothis stood for: My Father Will Hear About This. _

_ P.P.P.S. What does ;) mean? What do a semicolon and a parenthesis mean? _

_ P.P.P.P.S. What does WTF mean? _

_ Malfoy, _

_ Tuesday lunch sounds good. _

_ Harry _

_ P.S. Next time I see Parkinson remind me to buy her a pint. She deserves a medal for that name. _

_ P.P.S. Wouldn’t you like to know ;) _

_ P.P.P.S. WTF you don’t know WTF means???_

_ Potter, _

_ I will be around at 12. _

_ DM _

_ P.S. Do not encourage her. Although, I would very much like to see you and Pansy get drunk together. What a spectacle that would be. _

_ P.P.S. I WOULD like to know. Stop writing things that make no sense. Pansy refused to tell me what they mean, so I will ask you to refrain from using them._

_ Malfoy, _

_ See you then. _

_ Harry _

_ P.S. I’ll encourage her all I like, thank you very much :P _

_ P.P.S. Parkinson is a smart woman. ;) Perhaps I’ll have to buy her two pints. _

_ Potter, _

_ Fuck you and Pansy. _

_ DM _

_ Malfoy, _

_ You love it don’t lie :P ;) ;P _

_ xoxo _

_ Harry _

Harry enjoyed Malfoy’s confusion, adding more muggle type speak as he went. He learnt them from Hermione and added them into his letter repertoire very soon after. 

He didn’t hear back from Malfoy.

***

Harry sipped his pint and Ron stuffed chips in his mouth; Hermione was telling them about the latest workplace dispute in the Ministry. The pub was as loud as it always was, but it didn’t feel suffocating and, for the first time in a while, he had been looking forward to their weekly Thursday night drinks. Harry hadn’t told them about having coffee with Malfoy, or even seeing him as a bird, but it was something he wanted them to know— at least having coffee with him. 

So in the lull of conversation, he spoke up.

“I had coffee with Malfoy the other day.”

Ron, who had been shovelling chips in his mouth; choked, coughing violently. Despite the shock across her face, Hermione reached over to her husband giving him a whack on the back. Two coughs later chewed up chips came out of both Ron’s mouth _ and _nose. 

“Ron that is disgusting!” Hermione shoved a handful of napkins at him.

“It’s Harry’s fault! He can’t just casually say that he had coffee with _ Malfoy! _” Ron snatched the napkins glaring at Harry, “Besides, I can still feel bits of chip stuck in my nose!”

“That’s so gross, Ron.” Harry shook his head.

Ron blew his nose, and looked at the contents of the napkin. 

“I swear Ronald, if you ask us to look at that, or even tell us what is in it, you are sleeping on the sofa.” 

“But love, there’s so much—”

“THE SOFA!” 

He huffed and pouted, but Ron didn’t say anything else about his chip-boggers. 

“_Malfoy, _Harry?”

“What? You and Hermione had him do your garden.”

“Yes, but two weeks ago you asked us what Malfoy was doing. You hadn’t talked about him for years, and now you’ve suddenly had coffee with him,” Hermione said.

“Well, I saw him at Diagon the other day, and asked him out.” Harry shrugged.

“Asked him out!” Ron looked so shocked Harry wouldn’t be surprised if his entire head fell off.

“Not like a date you idiot!”

“Of course, you wouldn’t ask Malfoy out on a date! We know that.” Ron said and then paused, “You wouldn’t. Would you?”

“No! Don’t be ridiculous, Ron,” Harry could feel a warmth in his cheeks. He absolutely would not tell them about the weird not-flirting-but-also-maybe-actually-flirting-but-probably-not-flirting that happened. 

“Harry, when were you in Diagon Alley? We can’t get you there even if we bind and side-along you.” Hermione was always sceptical, seeing through Harry’s lies by omission.

Shrugging, Harry tried to play it off; he couldn’t tell them that he was hoping to run into Malfoy there, “I just felt like it. Besides you guys got to me the other day. I realised that maybe I should go out more.”

“You were always a bad liar, Harry.” Hermione shook her head but smiled at him, “Whatever the reason, I am glad you got out and I am glad you are trying to move on and make peace with Malfoy. How did it go?”

“Surprisingly well. We actually get along? He seemed to like my art, and he is going to do my garden.” 

“Wait, you took him to Grimmauld Place?” Ron looked far too shocked by Harry’s story than he should be. 

“I’m glad he liked your art, and I am sure he will do a great job on your garden, he did great work on ours.” She looked at Ron and he nodded. Hermione was always the more rational one of the group.

“You don’t even _ use _ your garden, why do you need to get it landscaped?” Ron seemed to get over the initial shock and remember that they made peace with Malfoy a while ago.

“Yeah, but that’s because it’s not in a state _ to _use.”

“Even so, you wouldn’t use it.”

“Yeah I would.”

“And do what?”

“I don’t know? Eat breakfast?”

“Harry, you don’t even eat breakfast.” Hermione joined in Ron’s scepticism.

“Well maybe, if I had a nice garden I would.”

“That makes no sense,” Ron said.

“I could sculpt outside.”

That shut them up.

“I think that would be lovely. You should tell him that would be something you’d like to do. He could definitely set it up.” Hermione smiled and Ron nodded listening to her. Harry could feel the warmth in his chest— the kind he felt sitting in front of the fire in the Gryffindor Tower or when he opened a Weasley jumper on Christmas day. It was like being wrapped in a warm blanket, or drinking hot tea on a snowy day and feeling the warmth trail down inside him. 

***

The following day, Harry went flying and passed the garden Malfoy had been working on, but he hadn’t been there. Perhaps Malfoy moved on to a new house.

_ What if he couldn’t see Malfoy as a bird anymore? _

The thought felt sour. 

Arriving home he thought about owling Malfoy but decided against it. Instead, he sat on the fluffy grey carpet in front of the fireplace. He flicked through one of his most loved sculpting books, one with pages worn from wear and had basically been memorised. When he felt sleep tugging at his consciousness, he _Accio-ed_ the blankets and pillows in the corner, curled up where he was— like most nights— and slept on the floor in front of the fire. 

***

Waiting for Tuesday, Harry sculpted and flew to pass the time. He visited the house Malfoy had been working; multiple times, sometimes twice a day; but didn’t see him. That didn’t discourage Harry from looking though. Besides, Harry loved flying so it didn’t matter.

On Monday afternoon he decided to owl Malfoy to make sure he was actually going to come on Tuesday. After his talk with Hermione and Ron he had become quite excited about Malfoy coming over. 

To do the garden.

Of course.

_ Malfoy, _

_ Are you still coming over tomorrow at 12? I can make some lunch, if you’d like. _

_ Harry _

_ Potter, _

_ Yes, I will be over at 12. _

_ DM _

_ Malfoy, _

_ Looking forward to it ;) _

_ Harry _

_ Potter, _

_ I will not come over unless you stop using those infernal markings and tell me what they mean! _

_ DM _

_ Malfoy, _

_ I’ll only tell you if you’re good ;) _

_ Harry _

_ Potter, _

_ I am always good. _

_ ;) _

_ DM _

_ Malfoy, _

_ Do you actually know what ;) means or just used it to spite me? _

_ Lol _

_ Harry _

_ Potter, _

_ If it means fuck you and your stupid things then yes. _

_ Don’t add new ones. _

_ DM _

_ Malfoy, _

_ Not exactly what it means, but props for trying. _

_ I’ll add as many as I want XD _

_ Harry _

_ Potter, _

_ Fuck. You. _

_ I’ll find out myself. _

_ DM _

_ Potter, _

_ Something has come up and I can’t do 12 tomorrow. _

_ DM _

Harry tried to not let Malfoy’s last letter bother him. It seemed like they’d been having fun with their letters. Maybe he’d pushed Malfoy too far? Harry put the letter down on the bench and picked up his now cold stir fry— which was missing it’s beef, no thanks to Nmyfabothis— and walked up to the first floor to sit on the carpet in front of the fire. He reheated his dinner and ate in silence. 

Heading down stairs, he was greeted by a very disgruntled Nmyfabothis. Harry opened the window and she flew inside with a hoot. Harry scrambled to find some owl treats he had specifically bought to placate Malfoy’s stubborn owl. While she was eating, Harry took the letter from her.

_ Potter, _

_ I have shuffled some things around and if you are available tomorrow from 8pm I can come over then, if that is agreeable. I’m sorry for any inconvenience. _

_ Let me know, _

_ DM _

For a few minutes Harry stared at the letter in his hand. Malfoy had genuinely been busy and Harry was an idiot. Now he felt bad for not replying to Malfoy’s initial letter; what if Harry had made Malfoy shuffle around everything because he thought Harry was angry?

A frustrated hoot from Nmyfabothis reminded Harry that she was still waiting for a reply. 

_ Malfoy, _

_ Don’t worry about it. You’re lucky I’m always free ;) _

_ 8pm sounds good, I can make something to eat if you want. Just let me know if there’s something you’d like, and if you’re allergic to anything. _

_ Harry _

Fifteen minutes was all he had to wait for a reply.

_ Potter, _

_ Always being free is not something most people are proud of. _

_ Thank you for the offer, however, I have to decline as I have previous dinner engagements. Tea, on the other hand, would be lovely. _

_ See you at 8. _

_ DM _

Tea would work. Harry could even bake a cake. Harry makes particularly nice Victoria Sponge cakes. He uses raspberry jam that Molly makes and a little touch of magic to get the whipped cream just the right consistency. Pleased with his idea, Harry spent the evening reading through a muggle book on wire sculpting he hadn’t read before, taking notes on techniques that he’d like to try, and fell asleep in front of the fire. 

*** 

At lunchtime on Tuesday Harry wrote Hermione a short owl.

_ Hermione, _

_ I’m having Malfoy over this evening to talk about the garden and will make Victoria Sponge. I’ll bring leftovers for Ron on Thursday. _

_ Harry _

Once the letter was sent, he got started on the actual cooking. Despite being forced to cook all the time as a child, he enjoyed cooking as an adult. He was cooking for himself and for the people he loved— and also now Malfoy; but that was different. He enjoyed baking more than cooking— it was more like sculpting. Tactile— requiring the use of hands, and precision but also creative leeway. Like sculpting it was freeing.

As he slid the cake into the oven he received a reply from Hermione.

_ Harry, _

_ I hope it goes well, as I am sure it will— your cake could win over anyone. ;) _

_ Ron will be thrilled. _

_ Love, _

_ Hermione xoxo _

Spending the rest of the day finishing his cake and rereading the same four lines of an unread sculpting book, Harry waited not-so-patiently for eight O’clock. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello darling readers, for anyone wondering or skeptical; the text speak/emojis used are all period (canon timeline) appropriate and used at that time. I checked ;)


	4. Chapter 4

Seven fifty seven. Staring at the clock had become Harry’s hobby for the past five minutes and forty seven seconds. If Malfoy’s promptness at their coffee date— which wasn’t a date, obviously; that’s just a saying— was anything to go by Malfoy wouldn’t arrive for another two minutes and three seconds. Harry looked down at his clothes, he ummed and arred about what to wear, but it’s his house and a casual meeting. He chose his most comfortable pair of black jeans, his favourite green T-shirt, and a black hoodie. 

Trying to imagine what Malfoy looked like—standing, wherever he was, staring at his watch and waiting for the clock to hit eight before he Apparated— Harry chuckled to himself. What a classic Malfoy thing to do. 

*** 

True to Harry’s prediction, at exactly eight there was a knocking at the door. 

When Harry opened the door Malfoy greeted him with a nod and a small smile. He was in a pair of grey slacks, shiny black boots and a navy coat. His hair was pulled back neatly into a bun on his head, only a few strands hung around his face. 

“Hey Malfoy, come in.” Stepping aside, Harry let him in.

“Always dress to impress, don’t you?” Malfoy dragged his eyes over Harry and walked in. 

“It _ is _ my house! I wasn’t going to dress like I was going to a business meeting,” Harry said as he followed Malfoy further into the house.

“Well, it is a business meeting, is it not?” Even though Harry couldn’t see Malfoy’s face he could hear the smirk in his voice.

“Uh, I guess it is…”

_ Maybe he should go get changed? _

“I am only joking, Potter. I came from a formal event, I would have dressed casually if I came from home.” Malfoy unbuttoned his coat. 

“Here, I’ll take that.”At least he could be a good host and hang it on the coat rack in the entrance. 

“Always a charmer.” Malfoy handed him the coat.

“How do you think I got away with so much shit at school?” Harry hung the coat with a wink at Malfoy.

“I fucking knew it.” 

“Shall we?”

In the living room, the fire was crackling away bathing the room in a soft yellow glow, and Harry’s cake and a pot of tea was sitting under a stasis charm on the small coffee table. 

Malfoy took his time, walking around the room looking at Harry’s art again, while Harry walked over in front of the fire and sat down on the carpet. 

“Is this new?” Malfoy pointed at a small vase Harry made a two days prior. 

“Yeah. I made it the other day. Just a quick one, not my best work.” Harry shrugged even though Malfoy wasn’t watching him. 

“It’s lovely. The asymmetry is a nice touch.” Malfoy inspected the vase.

“Thanks.” Praise always embarrassed Harry, but made him happy nonetheless— as long as it wasn’t for things like defeating Dark Lords. 

After looking over the vase for a few more seconds, Malfoy turned to Harry and froze. From the ground Malfoy looked _ so tall _ with legs _ so long_, and Harry had a perfect view of it all. Malfoy swallowed. 

_ Right. Pure Blood. _

He probably hasn’t sat on the ground since he was three.

Wait, no. He sat on the ground in the garden a few times; Harry saw him. 

“Um, we can sit o—” Harry started speaking, but Malfoy strode over to where Harry was sitting. He paused and stared at the fire for a second then he drew a deep breath and gave himself a little nod. Malfoy exhaled and sat down next to Harry— closer than he was expecting. 

“I brought some pictures and made a rough blue-print of your yard, but it will help if you have an idea of what you want.” Malfoy sounded robotic as he pulled out rolls of parchment from a small pouch with an extension charm on it. 

“I want to sculpt,” Harry said, barely letting Malfoy finish his sentence.

“Oh… Now?” Malfoy looked almost disappointed and definitely uncomfortable.

“No! Sorry, not now. I meant, like in the garden. Outside. I’d like an area where I could do my work.” Harry tried to set things straight.

“Right, makes sense.” Malfoy chuckled looking relieved. “Are your friends able to keep up with your strange segues?” 

“You were the one to ask what I wanted.” Harry glared at Malfoy.

“Yes, and generally one would reply something along the lines of ‘I want a place I can sculpt’ not ‘I want to sculpt.’ Did no one teach you how to speak coherently?” Malfoy seemed to be amusing himself. 

“Wow, just come into my house and make fun of me and the fact that my parents are dead.” Harry threw his hands up in the air and scrunched his face trying his best to look angry, “It’s always been funny to you hasn’t it?” 

When Harry glanced at Malfoy, he was such a pale white that Harry could see the blue veins in his neck and his face was pulled into a horrified frown— eyes wide, brows drawn and mouth partly open.

Harry couldn’t take it anymore; he let out a sharp laugh and covered his mouth with his hand as more flowed out. Harry threw his head back and wrapped his arms around his stomach which was rapidly become sore with laughter. 

“You should have seen your face.” Harry spoke through sobs of laughter. He wished they were still here with him, more than anything; but he came to terms with it— and there was no malice between himself and Malfoy, not since they reconnected. Appearing quite tense, Harry had wanted to relax Malfoy. Jokes always work.

“Fuck you.” Malfoy shoved Harry.

Holding his stomach, Harry toppled over onto his side, a constant stream of laughter falling from his lips.

“You— You— you should have— have seen your face,” Harry said, between laughs.

“You’re an absolute wanker.” Malfoy shoved Harry again, and then once more for good measure. 

Calming down, he slowly sat up again. Malfoy scowled at him before he rolled his eyes. 

“Right, so tell me how we can plan a yard. What else do you need to know?” 

Malfoy rolled out one of the large pieces of Parchment; a blueprint of the current yard. It even had labels like; ‘_The Atrociously Overgrown Bush’, ‘Maybe This Was a Garden Bed??’, ‘I Feel Sorry For This Tree,’ _ and Harry’s personal favourite ‘_The Vines That Look Like Potter’s Barbaric Hair.’ _

“The first step is to pick a style, and then key features that you want.”

Harry never had a yard, let alone picked a style for one. In fact, if he thought about it, he’d never gotten to pick a style for anything. The closest he’d come to picking a style was changing a few places in the house to adapt to his art needs— and ridding himself of all those strange Black items.. Even with his clothes he never picked a style; wearing ones that were comfortable or that Hermione bought for him.

“I— I don’t know how to pick a style?” Harry decided on honesty, but felt vulnerable so he added, “I mean have you seen my wardrobe choices?”

Malfoy laughed, and Harry decided he liked the sound very much.

“It is much better than it used to be.”

“Bad wardrobe choices aside, how do you choose a style?” 

Thinking for a moment Malfoy hummed.

“How about you tell me what you’d like there and then we can pick a style from that?” Malfoy smiled as Harry nodded.

“Well, I’d like a place to sculpt,” Harry winked, “And…” 

What did he like doing? He used to like lying on the grass under the window at number 4 Privet Drive. They had many flowers there. Harry didn’t want lots of flowers. He likes cooking so maybe a vegetable patch.

Keeping quiet, Malfoy waited patiently as Harry stared into the fire as if it held the answer.

“Trees, I’d like some trees… and lots of grass— grass that you can lie on. Umm, a vegetable patch, where I can grow eggplants and herbs, and a place for birds.” He glanced up to Malfoy, who was watching Harry with a soft smile, before he looked back into the fire, “I want birds to visit. Not a lot of flowers— no flower beds— no petunias… Actually no flowers. Just really green—” 

“—Like your eyes.”

“What?”

“Green like Slytherin.”

“No, you didn’t s—”

“Like Slytherin. Don’t you think I know what I said?” Malfoy narrowed his eyes at Harry.

“I’m sure—”

“I said—”

“You said—”

“Slytherin—”

“Your—”

“Potter—”

“Eyes—”

“I didn’t.”

“You did.”

“You must get your ears checked, Potter. Or perhaps you just wished I said that.” Malfoy nodded to himself.

“Why would I want— You’re insane.” Harry shook his head.

“You want a Slytherin green yard, a place to sculpt, trees, grass you can lie on, a place to grow eggplants— very specific by the way— and a bird sanctuary.” Malfoy listed the things Harry had asked for.

“Hey, eggplants are delicious.” 

“I never said they weren’t.”

“Whatever, yes that’s what I want. What style of garden should I get then?” He felt like he was walking blind in this whole landscaping thing— although he was pretty used to walking blindly into things by now.

“Well, given the natural shape of the garden, and the placement of trees that are already grown, along with what you want… I would say that an Informal Landscape style would suit it best.” Malfoy nodded looking down at the blueprint on the ground in front of them.

“What’s that mean?”

“An Informal Landscape refers to a yard that has flowing garden beds with curved edges, seemingly random placement of plants, and asymmetrical patterns. I think it will allow the addition of all the features you want, while still holding the natural shape of the yard, _ and _be something that is true to you— that can connect with who you are.” 

Even though he had heard Malfoy talk about landscaping before, Harry was still blown away by his knowledge and understanding. The style did sound very appealing and Malfoy seemed to understand Harry more than he let on. 

“I like that.” Harry grinned at Malfoy.

“Now we need to identify the smaller things you’d like,” Malfoy said, and pulled out even more large books. 

“That’s so many books, is this going to be like studying with Hermione?” Harry groaned.

“There are pictures. Besides, you seem to enjoy reading books about art.” Malfoy tilted his head at the books on the table, “Think of this as an art project, you need to pick the style and materials, and then where you want to place all the different features.”. 

It sounded logical, but to Harry art had never been logical.

“Art is a _ feeling_, Malfoy.”

“Yes, but you still need knowledge of the material and style you want.” Malfoy made good points.

“True.”

Handing him a book titled _ Garden Features for Irregular and Informal Gardens_, Malfoy told him to get reading. Flicking through it, Harry decided that he wouldn’t mind, it was mostly pictures anyway. Like most things these days; Harry got lost in his own world, the rest of the world flowing in a separate space around him. 

The crack of Malfoy’s back brought Harry out of his thoughts. 

“Oh, I forgot, would you like some tea? I made a cake, too.”

“You made a cake?”

“Yes.”

“For… me?”

“Yeah.”

Malfoy seemed lost inside his mind for a moment.

“Thank you,” he said, finally.

“Don’t thank me until you try it, it could be really gross.” Harry laughed.

“Don’t you dare poison me.” Malfoy glared at Harry while he picked up the tray with the tea and cake on it and placed it in front of them. 

They poured tea and each took a slice of cake.

“Potter, this is _ really _ good.”

“Thanks.” Harry shoved a large mouthful of cake in his mouth.

“No, _ really, really _good. So good that I have to ask; did you really make this?”

“Of course I made it!”

“Quidditch, sculpting, running secret underground resistance groups, slaying Dark Lords, and now baking. Is there anything the Chosen One can’t do?” Malfoy glanced at him while he ate his cake. He was much neater—proper— in his eating. 

Malfoy putting Quidditch and sculpting, and even DA before defeating Voldemort when listing things Harry was good at, made him so ridiculously happy. 

“Looking after a garden?”

Laughing, Malfoy nodded, “Yeah, you’re pretty pants at that.” 

Joining in Malfoy’s laughter, Harry decided that laughing with him definitely beat all the years fighting. Malfoy’s sarcasm was fun, but most of all it was refreshing. 

They finished their tea break in silence and got back to work. 

Silence was a large part of Harry’s life, and he enjoyed it very much. He sculpted, read, baked, and worked in it. It was calming. So, he liked sitting in it with Malfoy and reading through all the books he brought. Occasionally, one of them would point out something that would go nicely in Harry’s garden, but other than that the room was quiet. Harry picked out a grey stone bird bath and a bird feeder, he didn’t really know what he was doing but Malfoy nodded as if he approved of Harry’s choice. 

Sitting with his legs under him the whole time, they were getting pins and needles; so Harry stretched his legs out in front of him. He picked up a new book about plants and started flicking through it. The garden was large and Malfoy told him he had to pick lots of plants to fill the space, he had a lot of choosing ahead of him.

Growing tired of that position, Harry pulled his legs back to cross them, but Malfoy had done the same thing since Harry stretched his legs and meant that Harry’s knee bumped Malfoy’s and came to a rest against it. 

Harry froze, knee tingling, but Malfoy just kept flicking through the book he had on his lap, seemingly ignorant to their touching knees. Harry risked a sideways glance at Malfoy, whose face was unreadable. Waiting a few more moments, Malfoy appeared still engrossed in reading, Harry turned back to his own book— knees still touching

It was comforting having Malfoy sit with him in front of the fire. Ron and Hermione always insisted on talking, and sometimes Harry didn’t want to talk but still wanted the company. To have the presence of someone else, but not have to be interacting the whole time. In general, Harry had always been starved of touch. As a child the Dursleys tried to touch and interact with him as little as possible. So even though it was just a light touch, his knee against Malfoy’s was calming. 

“Potter.”

“Potter, are you listening?”

“Hmm?”

“Potter!”

“Sorry, what?” Harry rubbed his eyes, and turned to Malfoy.

“I said; It’s getting late and I have an early start tomorrow.” Malfoy looked amused. The clock on the wall told him it was eleven twenty eight. 

_ When had it gotten so late? _

“Right, of course. Sorry, I got distracted.”

“I can tell.” 

“Thanks for coming over.”

“Thank you for the tea and incredible cake.” Malfoy stood up.

“You can have the rest.” Harry got up, too.

“No, it’s your cake.”

“I can’t eat it all,” Harry said, as they walked out of the room.

“Well, neither could I.” Malfoy shook his head.

“Well, share it with your friends or something. I can always make more.” 

“Okay, I am having lunch with Mother tomorrow, I will take some for her.”

A quick detour past the kitchen to get the rest of the cake and they headed to the entrance.

“Thank you for coming, it was nice,” Harry said, it just came out.

“It _ was _nice.” Malfoy’s reply surprised Harry.

“Have fun with your mum tomorrow.”

“I’ll owl you so we can set up another meeting.”

A nod from Harry and Malfoy Apparated out of the entrance.

***

The following evening Harry received an owl from Malfoy,

_ Potter, _

_ Thank you for the cake, Mother enjoyed it very much. _

_ The next time I am available to meet is Friday evening from 7pm. _

_ Does that suit you? If not, I can see if I can rearrange some things. _

_ Draco _

He reread the letter four times. Every time, eyes lingering on the _ Draco _ in small loopy letters at the bottom. All previous letters were signed _ DM, _ maybe he just slipped up? However, that didn’t seem like something Malfoy would do, everything he does is very calculated. Harry chose not to linger on it.

Friday sounded good. As long as it wasn’t Thursday evenings or every second Sunday at lunch he was always free. 

_ Malfoy, _

_ I’m glad she enjoyed it! _

_ Friday sounds good, I could make you dinner ;) _

_ Harry, _

_ P.S. Every time I see your owl I laugh. My Father Will Hear About This. XD _

_ Potter, _

_ Dinner sounds lovely. _

_ Please stop using those infernal markings. _

_ Draco _

_ P.S. Shut up about the owl _

_ Malfoy, _

_ I’ll never stop using these “internal markings.” :p _

_ You secretly love it ;) xx _

_ See you on Friday, _

_ Harry _

_ P.S. I’ll never let it go _

Harry didn’t receive a reply from Malfoy.

***

Thursday was the next day he saw Malfoy. Malfoy didn’t see Harry; as he saw his “favourite work friend” Gertrude.

“I was worried I wouldn’t see you again. It has been a while, many things have happened since I last saw you.” 

He was levitating six different saplings over to a long garden bed. Harry flew across the yard landing on various branches as he went, then hopped along to the end of the branch closest to Malfoy. Placing the little trees down Malfoy stood and gazed at the garden bed.

“Do you think I am a pleasant person?” Malfoy didn’t look up as he spoke. He moved down the garden bed and cast a spell Harry didn’t recognise, but dirt started lifting and creating a built up ring. He was digging a hole with magic. Even now, twenty five years of age— having used magic for fifteen years he still found it incredible. 

“I never used to be. But the other day someone said it was ‘nice’ when we spent time together. Some say fun, or interesting, never nice.” Malfoy inspected the hole, before casting again. He _ had _ to be talking about Harry. He said those exact words; _ it was nice. _It made Harry want to smile.

Cawing Harry left the branch and landed on the sturdiest looking branch on one of the saplings, which teetered and dipped dangerously.

“If you break that tree, Gertrude, there will be a lovely addition of a stuffed bird on my wall.” Malfoy laughed and Harry let out a squawk. 

After Malfoy surveyed the hole again he walked over to where Harry was, “I need that tree,” He said and reached out and took the sapling Harry was sitting on, it tipped; throwing him off. He took it back; Malfoy wasn’t nice— throwing people off branches— how not nice.

Malfoy planted the tree, telling Harry that the previous day he’d come in and cast spells that prepared the ground for planting and added nutrients to the soil. 

“Gertrude, let me tell you something about magical landscaping. It is a lot like healing or even curse breaking. Forcing magic on the landscape will never work, and will always give you a poor result. The earth— plant life, it all has its own life force, not exactly like the magic that flows through humans but it’s the same principle. 

“To effectively use magic on it, you must work _ with _ the ‘magic’ it already possesses. It’s like curse breaking; you can’t do it forcefully. First, you must identify the streams of ‘magic’ it has— it is most effective if you feel down to the individual strand level— then decide which parts you need to meld your own magic into. If you fuse your magic into it at that level; the plant life won’t reject or resist your magic.” Malfoy finished explaining at the same time he finished planting the tree.

“Lunch?” Malfoy walked over to the patio. 

They sat down and Malfoy took out a sandwich and a slice of Harry’s cake. Malfoy tossed bread on the ground for Harry. _ Ground Bread. _ Begrudgingly Harry ate every piece Malfoy gave him, while he listened to Malfoy’s occasional landscaping fact.

“Pansy set a date for her wedding, by the way.”

_ Parkinson was getting married? _

“It’s still six months a way, but she’s already getting intense about it. She asked me to be her maid of honour. She said, _‘Draco darling, you’re more beautiful than almost all the women I know, you’d look fabulous in the dress I want you to wear,’ _ and Gertrude I’m scared because if I know Pansy, she probably has a dress actually planned out for me to wear.” Malfoy shuddered. 

Cawing with laugher, Harry imagined Malfoy standing awkwardly in a slightly too short lavender dress, with matching purple flowers in his hair.

“Fuck you, Gertrude.” Malfoy threw the balled foil from his sandwich at Harry, who just hopped out of the way.

“She asked me if I wanted a plus one… I don’t know what to tell her. No one wants to date a Malfoy, I don’t blame them, but if I say no and by some miracle some bloke wants to come with me—”

_ Wait Malfoy fancied men? _

“— Pansy would have my head, and if I say yes and no one comes she’ll also have my head. It’s a lose-lose situation, my darling.” Malfoy spoke, but Harry was still stuck on his previous revelation.

Always being with Pansy at school, Harry had assumed that Malfoy and her had been in a relationship, and by extent assumed Malfoy was straight. Well maybe he was with her at that time, but he definitely said _ bloke _ which meant that he wasn’t _ straight _. This fact made Harry’s little bird heart beat faster in his chest— which was stupid, because why did it matter what gender Malfoy liked?

“If only I could take you,” Malfoy sighed, “Maybe I’ll just tell her I’ll take a plus one, and if I can’t find a date I’ll invite a friend, or just eat two meals.” 

Surely Malfoy— this new Malfoy— wasn’t that unpopular with people. At least once they got to know him. He was funny, smart, good looking, worked hard, and his sarcasm and sense of humour kept you on your toes; surely someone would want to go to a wedding with him. 

That was the end of the conversation, as Malfoy didn’t bring it up; instead moving on to Harry’s cake.

“Little bird, this cake was baked by the Chosen One himself, _ and _ he gave it to _ me_, like it was no big deal— which of course it was, but he can be quite an idiot sometimes. So no surprises he didn’t realise.”

Harry wasn’t an idiot, maybe sometimes unobservant to things that didn’t have or warrant his attention, but wasn’t everyone like that? Besides, it was just cake. It _ was _ no big deal. 

“Here, have some.” Malfoy took a bit of the sponge and tossed it gently onto the table for Harry. 

_ Table Cake. What an upgrade! _

Even as a bird the cake tasted delicious.

“Good, isn’t it? But I am sorry, you do not get anymore. The Boy Who Lived, gave it to _ me_, so it is mine.” Malfoy laughed and turned a soft smile to Harry and Harry pretend he didn’t think that Malfoy smiling made him one hundred times more attractive. 

Cake finished; he got back to work. Harry hung around for a little while longer, watching Malfoy finish planting the trees, but left soon after.

***

In the evening, in an unusually good mood, Harry met Hermione and Ron at their usual pub. 

“Oh, mate, by the way, how’d it go with Malfoy the other day?” Ron turned his attention away from the bowl of chips Hermione had in front of her, and towards Harry. 

“Yeah, I think it went well? He’s quite pleasant, when he’s not being a wanker, of course.” Harry smiled.

“That’s wonderful Harry,” Hermione said, and took a sip of Ron’s pint— She’d finished her own a couple of minutes ago— and Ron narrowed his eyes at her.

“Yeah, that’s great mate, I’m glad you’re actually seeing people.” Ron gave Harry a smile, the one that always reminded Harry of the wonderful heart Ron possessed, “Besides, I heard you made some cake, ‘Mione said I could be expecting some leftovers.” Ron waggled his eyebrows at Harry.

“Ah, about that… I gave the rest to Malfoy.”

“Harry! How could you do that? I’m your best mate! The ultimate betrayal.” Ron crossed his arms on the table, burying his face in them and fake crying.

“I think that’s a lovely gesture, Harry,” Hermione said, over Ron’s sobs.

“She’s right though, mate.” Ron gave up his attempt at fake crying, receiving no sympathy.

“I promise I’ll make another one just for you, mate.” 

“Than—”

“— Harry do not make a cake just for Ron! He doesn’t need a whole cake! It’s not healthy!”

“But love, I train so much, it won’t—”

“— and you’ll rot your teeth—”

“— Come on Harry, tell her!”

“Sorry, mate. I’m not getting dragged into a fight, I know Hermione’ll win.”

“You’re a smart man, Harry.” Hermione glared at Ron. 

Once Ron conceded defeat, the three of them fell back into casual conversation. Ron retold his latest daring arrest with sound effects and all, Hermione rolling her eyes the whole time— having obviously heard the story before. The topic of Malfoy didn’t come up again.

***

Friday lunch had Harry sitting in the kitchen wondering what to cook that evening. He hadn’t ask Malfoy what he’d like to eat, or even if he was allergic to anything, and he couldn’t owl him to ask _ now _. He’d have to pick something that didn’t have anything people are usually allergic to. No seafood, no peanuts— or any kind of nuts. He’d also have to steer clear of foods that are hated by lots of people. Malfoy seemed like someone who’d be very picky. That meant no tomatoes, no olives, no tuna, no pickles, no brussel sprouts. 

It had to be something simple. If he made a really fancy and complicated meal, Malfoy might get the wrong idea or not like it. Burgers? Pasta? He could always make both and give Malfoy the option to choose? No, that’d be _ really _weird. On burgers he usually had tomatoes and pickles, which he had already ruled out. So pasta, but it’d have to be something with a pesto or carbonara to steer clear of tomatoes. But a pesto sauce usually had pine nuts. 

Carbonara it was.

With that decision out of the way, Harry headed back to his workshop to work on his latest piece. He was trying something with wax this time, it wasn’t working as well as he’d hoped, but it wasn’t _ bad. _

Knowing Malfoy would be exactly on time, Harry finished sculpting at quarter past six and headed down into the kitchen. Cooking pasta was like second nature, his go-to dinner, but he made sure everything was perfect. Malfoy was probably a tough critic, having definitely only eaten the finest dishes all his childhood.

Right on seven, there was a knock on the front door. 

Feeling a sudden wave of nerves as he opened the door, Harry was greeted with a much more casual Malfoy, compared to last time. Hair out, black jeans instead of slacks, and a slightly worn jumper. He looked _ good_.

“Good evening.” Malfoy greeted him.

“Hey, Malfoy, come in.” Harry stepped aside and Malfoy walked in, “Are you hungry? We could eat now, or later, or whatever you want to do, that’s fine.” Harry pushed his glasses up his face. 

_ Why was his heart racing all of a sudden? _

“Nervous, Potter?”

“What? No! Of course not, why would I be nervous?” Harry’s voice started an octave higher than usual, but got it under control. Where had this come from?

“Really?” Malfoy made an effort to exaggerate pushing invisible glasses up his nose.

“I do not do that!” Harry straight up lied.

“You do.”

“Do not.” Harry pushed his glasses up. _ Fuck_.

“See! You just did it again.”

“No, I didn’t.”

“You’re insufferable.”

“Says you, His Majesty Draco Hypocrite Malfoy, King of Insufferable-ness.” 

“Well, the King wishes to dine first. Not to worry Potter, you do not have to be nervous about me hating your meal, I have low expectations.” Malfoy flashed him a smirk at him. 

“Come on then.” Harry lead Malfoy up stairs to the first floor. 

With a quick, “Wait here,” Harry Apparated down to the kitchen and then back up with the pasta. He placed the plates on the small table in the corner of the room, moving his art books to the floor. 

“Pasta. Smells good.” 

“I hope it tastes— oh, do you want a drink?” Harry said, lest he be taken for a bad host.

“Trying to get me drunk, Potter?” Malfoy smirked, and Harry pushed his glasses back into place.

“No! That’s not what—”

“Do I make you nervous?” Malfoy touched the bridge of his nose where glasses would sit.

“You wish.” Harry crossed his arms, “My glasses just fall down a lot.”

“Then get glasses that fit better.” Malfoy raised his eyebrows at Harry, but didn’t seem convinced.

“Can we just eat?” Harry gestured to the dinner. “It’s going to get cold.”

“You didn’t get me a drink.” Malfoy pouted slightly. 

“You’re insane.” Harry shook his head, “Fine, what do you want?”

“What would you like?” Malfoy said.

“Hmm, I’d like you to stop being an annoying prat.” 

“No, I was not asking what you would like, I was correcting your manners,” Malfoy said and Harry just laughed, “Right. You knew that. You were just being difficult.”

When Harry didn’t say anything Malfoy spoke up again, “A glass of wine; white wine. Pinot Grigio pairs best with carbonara if you have it.”

Did Harry even own wine? There were bottles of all sorts of alcohol in the basement, but he’d never even looked at them. Cheap Firewhisky was his go-to drink.

“You don’t have wine do you?” Malfoy could read his thoughts, he was sure. Malfoy must be really good at Legilimency, really secret undetectable Legilimency.

“I might… You will have to come and choose though.”

Agreeing, Malfoy spent the better half of ten minutes looking over the extensive alcohol selection in the Black collection. Telling Harry _ “you have very expensive and sought after items in your house that you could never appreciate” _ they headed back upstairs with a bottle of white wine and two glasses.

Sitting back down at the table, Harry poured two glasses of wine handing one to Malfoy who took it and clinked it against Harry’s. Malfoy’s snarky remarks about his lack of sophistication, understanding of proper wines, and dining in general, relaxed Harry. He didn’t understand why he was nervous, it was _ just _Malfoy.

“Potter, this is really good.”

“Thanks, I didn’t know what you’d like so I chose something safe.”

“You are a very talented cook. A man of many talents.” Malfoy took another bite. 

“You know what they say; _ Jack of all trades is a master of none _.” Harry took a large bite of his pasta.

“_ — but often better than a master of one,” _ Malfoy said, with his wine glass paused in front of his mouth looking at Harry.

“What?” Harry watched as Malfoy brought the glass against his lips and took a sip before he answered.

“That’s the rest of the saying.”

“I didn’t know there was more.” Harry’s eyes were trained of Malfoy’s mouth as more wine disappeared into it.

“There are a lot of things you don’t know.” Harry looked up from his mouth to his eyes. He could feel warmth in his cheeks and Malfoy winked. 

_ Did Malfoy just catch him staring at his mouth? _

“There are things you don’t know, too.”

“Pray tell, what may that be?”

“Well you don’t know what a semicolon and a bracket means.” Harry winked back.

“Again with those stupid symbols, I swear on Merlin’s beard, Potter—”

“—It’s okay to admit you don’t know things, you know.” Harry tilted his head sideways smiling at him.

Following a pause, Malfoy replied, “I don’t know what they mean.”

“See, that wasn’t so hard,” Harry said, and Malfoy finished his wine.

“You are not going to tell me what they mean, are you?” Malfoy raised an eyebrow at him.

“Nope.”

“If I am going to have to deal with you, I need another drink.” Malfoy held out his glass.

“Trying to get _ yourself _drunk, Malfoy?” Harry finished his own half-full glass in one motion—which he received an unimpressed look for— poured Malfoy another glass, and then one for himself. 

“One can only try.” Malfoy chuckled.

Falling into silence, they continued eating. The carbonara was good, Harry was really happy with it, and Malfoy was right with the wine choice. He didn’t realise that you had to pair wine with food. Malfoy was filled with much unimportant information like that.

Putting pasta on his fork, Harry noticed Malfoy shifting out of the corner of his eye, followed by a foot bumping up against his own. It stayed there. Harry looked up from his pasta, gaze meeting Malfoy’s, Malfoy gave Harry a small smile and looked down at his pasta. Malfoy continued eating as if nothing had happened— like their feet weren’t touching.

When Malfoy showed no signs of addressing their feet nor any intent to move, Harry went back to eating. 

As Harry was swallowing the last mouthful of his pasta, Malfoy nudged his foot against Harry’s. This drew Harry’s eyes to Malfoy, whose face was serious but determined. He gave off the same aura he had when Harry saw him speak to that old lady a while back. He took a deep breath and spoke.

“I’m sorry.” Harry didn’t need Malfoy to say for what, he just knew: _ everything_.

“Me too.” Harry’s voice sounded rough to his ears and he swallowed trying to rid himself of the dryness in his throat that appeared out of nowhere.

“No, I’m _ really _ sorry.” Malfoy leant forward, his eyes bore into Harry’s. Storm clouds reflected in a still pond— that’s what Malfoy’s eyes were, and they made Harry’s heart thump painfully in his chest.

“Me too.” Harry’s voice came out as a whisper, he couldn’t say anything else nor could he look away. 

Nodding and giving Harry a small smile Malfoy took in a deep breath and looked down to his plate. It was as if Harry broke out of a trance when Malfoy’s eyes left his and he took the breath he hadn’t taken.

The air around them was still as neither of them spoke, only broken by Malfoy’s fork tapping against his plate. Once the fork came to a rest on the plate Malfoy finally turned his attention back to Harry.

“Shall we?” Malfoy stood up.

“Yeah.” Harry collected the dishes and Apparated to the kitchen and back to in front of the fire and sat down. 

A deep breath brought Harry’s attention away from the fire and up to Malfoy. He was standing next to Harry a deep frown on his face.

“We can—” Harry started to speak but was interrupted, just like last time.

“It’s fine, the floor is fine.” Malfoy sat down right next to Harry and ran his hand over the carpet, “It’s soft.”

“Yeah, it’s one of the few things I changed.”

Pulling out a roll of parchment and unrolling it in front of Harry, Malfoy said, “I have plotted a rough draft of what I suggest for your garden. Of course it is your choice, and can always be reworked if you are unhappy.”

The mapped out garden Malfoy was suggesting, looked completely different to what the garden currently looked like. The only similarity was the boundary of the yard and the three large trees already there. Malfoy left plenty of open grass space around one of the largest trees, sketched a long loopy path leading from the house to a garden bed at the far end of the yard, made a space for the bird bath and feeder that Harry selected, and squared off a large rectangular space up against the house. 

“What’s this?” Harry pointed at it.

“I wasn’t sure what you would need in ways of space and furniture for sculpting, so I left it blank, just sectioning off space.”

“I’d like bench space, a table, and a roof or pergola.” Malfoy jotted notes down as Harry spoke. 

“What are your thoughts on the rest of the yard? What do we need to change?” Malfoy glanced at Harry before looking back down at the plan.

“Um, I like it. So, nothing?” Harry phrased it as a question, he didn’t know what he was doing and Malfoy’s plan seemed pretty good.

“_Really? _ ” Malfoy looked at Harry sceptically, “I’m not going to get offended, Potter. It is a rough draft and you are meant to have some input, it is _ your _ yard.”

“Um…” Harry thought about it for a moment, “Do you think the vegetable garden is too far away from the house?” 

“Do _ you _ think it is too far away?” Malfoy was clearly unimpressed with Harry.

“I don’t know! I’ve never had a garden. Or a yard. Or a house. I don’t know what I’m doing! That’s what you’re here for, right?” Harry was getting frustrated, Malfoy was supposed to be helping him.

“Yes, that is what I’m here for. I put the garden patch there because, in terms of both sun and water, it is the best place in the yard for it to be,” Malfoy drew lines with his fingers across the yard as he spoke. 

“Okay, leave it there.” 

“What else? Surely you have something.” Malfoy nudged Harry.

“What about a table and some chairs? We could put them on the edge of the grassy area, in between the bird bath and the vegetable patch?” Harry touched the spot he suggested on the map.

“Good. And?” Malfoy tried to coax more ideas from Harry.

“I have no idea… We could put one of my sculptures in the yard?” Malfoy nodded.

“That is a really good idea.” Malfoy looked pleased, “Do you have anything in particular in mind?”

“Not really.”

“Okay, large or small?”

Recalling all the work he currently had in the house, he tried to think of what would suit the plan. He didn’t have one large finished piece, that he’d like. There was the half-finished wire person in his workshop, that and some smaller sculptures might look good.

“Both.” 

“Good. Is there anything else you would change?” Malfoy asked.

“No, I trust you.”

“Thank you,” Malfoy said after a short pause.

Soft crackling of the fire and their synchronised breathing were the only sounds in the room.

“I think the next step we take should be to choose plants, and materials.” Malfoy handed him a thin book on plants. 

Having no understanding of plants, gardens, landscaping, and yards meant that Harry was continuously asking Malfoy questions and advice. Every question Harry asked was answered with relevant information and was easily understandable. Malfoy was really good at his job. Finding himself quite enjoying picking plants and pavers, Harry became engrossed in his task. 

However, when the fire made a particularly loud pop, flaring briefly, and Malfoy almost jumped out of his skin bumping right into Harry and grabbing his arm tightly, it wrenched Harry from his task.

“Malfoy, are you—” Harry turned to look at Malfoy who had lost all colour from his face, effectively making his skin almost see through.

“I’m fine.” Malfoy hissed through gritted teeth and let out a sharp breath. Malfoy’s nails still digging into Harry’s forearm told him otherwise.

“No you’re not.” 

With no answer and Malfoy’s grip on his arm becoming painful, Harry took his other hand placing it over Malfoy’s and peeled the fingers off slowly. The hand was cold and clammy and shook a little in Harry’s warm one. He peered at Malfoy who was looking down at his hand in Harry’s.

“You’re okay,” Harry said, it came out as a whisper. He knew what it was like to have scars left by the war, and he knew what they looked like having seen them far too much. He also knew what this one was from.

There was one thing that Harry stuck by, and it was that if someone needed the comfort and safety of a hug; he would not pull away until they did. That way the other person can decide how much they need. Since the war, Hermione was someone who likes short hugs, never exceeding twenty seconds, but Ron was someone who could go forty seconds or more. He applied that rule to this situation, too. Malfoy needed comfort, maybe not a hug, but the principle still stood. So, Harry decided to hold Malfoy’s hand in a firm grip until he pulled away. 

It may have been twenty seconds, or it could have been a minute— Harry couldn’t tell, but when Malfoy’s breathing re-synchronized with Harry’s and his hand stop shaking, he pulled away and placed it in his lap.

“I should have realised sooner, I’m sorry.” 

All Malfoy did was shake his head. 

“You should have said something, I would have put out the fire.” Harry pulled out his wand. He would just put out the fire, it wasn’t a big deal. Surely Malfoy knew that.

“No, you don’t have to.” Malfoy reached out and placed a hand on Harry’s wand arm.

“Malfoy, it’s fine, I don’t mind. I don’t want you to feel uncomfortable, I don’t want you to have to feel any of that.” Harry pulled his arm gently from Malfoy’s grip as he spoke.

“I felt safe.” It was so quiet Harry almost missed it.

Not knowing the appropriate response Harry kept silent, and Malfoy stared down at his hands now back in his lap. Malfoy was vulnerable, he was willingly showing it to Harry _ and _ he felt safe to tell Harry this. Felt safe in a room with something that triggered memories of some of the most awful things he’s ever experienced, because of… Harry?

“You… you saved me last time. I don’t know why…” Malfoy lifted his head slightly to glance at Harry then looked back down, “but I felt— feel— safe.”

“You are safe here, I promise.”

Another thing Harry knew was that when people need to talk through things; let them speak. Don’t interrupt and don’t give suggestions or explanations— not unless asked for. If someone is having a hard time, sometimes they just need to get it out there. No judgement. No good intentioned advice. Just someone to listen. To understand. If Malfoy felt safe on the floor next to Harry, he would make sure that he continued to. 

“I cannot even be in the same house as a lit fire. Every time I see one I feel like I’m suffocating and my head is about to explode. Even the smell. It makes me so sick that it’s almost as if my stomach has ripped and all the contents is spilling throughout my body. It’s like it makes the magic that flows through me sick— almost as if it takes it right from me, makes it so weak it’s not even there.” Malfoy’s hair hung around his face obscuring his expression, but his voice conveyed all the emotion Harry needed to understand. He lived— lives— through that pain, too.

Following a long silence, it was clear Malfoy wasn’t going to speak up again so Harry bumped his thigh against Malfoy’s gently for a second. If Malfoy could be vulnerable with Harry, Harry could try too, right? 

“It feels like it’s sucking your magic right out of you, and the space it occupied in your chest—” Harry tore his eyes from the fire to meet Malfoy’s eyes for a second, “—sucks in on itself and it becomes so painfully tight you think you might die,” Harry said, and Malfoy nodded when he finished. 

“I’m guessing it’s not fire?” Malfoy nodded to the fire_ . _

“Small spaces.” Malfoy looked surprised. 

“Of all the things right?” Harry tried to play it off, there were many things that triggered awful memories from the war, but this was from his childhood— it was always somehow worse. It was so ingrained in him now.

“No, there is nothing wrong or invalid about that.” It was the most sincere Malfoy ever sounded.

“I may have left the tiny cupboard under the stairs, but it never left me.” Harry ran his and though his hair, just thinking about it made him anxious, “I can’t even sleep on the four poster beds here, even the king size one in the master bedroom. I sleep on the floor here most nights.”

“At least the carpet is soft.” Malfoy smiled softly when their eyes met, “I can’t sleep in the dark… I feel like a four year old, afraid of the dark. It’s pathetic.”

“No.” Harry shook his head. “It is absolutely not.”

“Lucius, used to lock me in the Manor basement in a room charmed to suck out all light, until I learnt how to ‘behave’— I couldn’t even see my hands if they were right in front of my face. I was _ five years old_. I would scream and cry, but he never let me out. Then when— when you-know-who was at the Manor it was always dark, and Nagini and he— everyone, hid in the darkness. It all came back, and now it won’t go away.” Malfoy rubbed his eyes, Harry wasn’t sure if he was wiping away tears or just trying to rid himself of the memories.

“I’m scared of people yelling. Cheering is usually fine… most of the time.” Harry pulled his knees up to his chest and wrapped his arms around them.

“Yelling?”

“Yeah, it always meant that I was going to get locked in the cupboard, or hit, or go without food. It’s like it was conditioned into my very soul. Year after year. Hogwarts was the first time people didn’t yell at me all the time, first time I got to sleep in a proper bed— got to eat every meal of every day.” Harry rarely talked to Ron and Hermione about this. 

He loved them— needed and appreciated more than anything, every piece of love and acceptance they gave him, but this was something they could never understand. Malfoy understood. He grew up in an abusive household, too. Lucius’ abuse was far less physical, more psychological. Looking back now, Harry can see that. As a child he couldn’t.

“Hogwarts was a safe haven.” Malfoy concluded.

“Until it wasn’t.” Harry could feel the bitterness rise from the pit of his stomach.

“We didn’t have a childhood, did we?” Malfoy looked Harry in the eye.

“Not the way most children did.”

Harry ran a finger across the floor.

Malfoy sighed softly.

The moment passed.

“I brought Mother’s favourite chocolates, she gets two boxes flown in from Paris every second month— one for her and one for me— I thought you would like some.” Malfoy retrieved a small box and handed it to Harry.

“I would but, are you sure you want to waste them on me?” Harry took the box, it was light and he doubted there would be many chocolates in there. Knowing Narcissa; the chocolates would be the best money could buy, Harry didn’t deserve them.

“I am sure I would like to _ waste _ them on you.” Malfoy rolled his eyes.

“As long as you’re sure, I could make us some tea?” Malfoy nodded and Harry went to the kitchen and got them some.

Back with two cups of tea, Harry looked at the box Malfoy opened and handed him, telling him to pick the first one. There were only six chocolates in the box. On the inside of the lid, there were pictures of each chocolate and a description written below— all in French _ of course. _

“I think you’d like this one.” Malfoy pointed at a perfectly round chocolate.

Since they were trusting each other, Harry nodded and took the chocolate. Conscious of Malfoy’s eyes on him, Harry lifted it up to eye level and lifted up his glasses to look at it without them. 

“I didn’t know you could see without your glasses.” Malfoy sounded genuinely surprised and curious which made Harry smile.

“I can’t.”

“Well then why did you look at it without them?” 

“Because, sometimes the world looks better when you can’t see all the tiny details.” Harry took off his glasses, the entire world turning into blurry shapes and colours. He looked at Malfoy, who said nothing, and being a complete blur, Harry couldn’t read Malfoy as well as he’d like to. 

“See, it looks much better now, I can’t see you being an annoying prat.” 

“I wish I had the same luxury.” Malfoy sighed dramatically.

“Here,” Harry held out his glasses, “Sometimes if you wear other people’s glasses, it makes your own vision blurry. My eyesight is _ quite _bad, if you try them on the world should appear almost as bad as how I see it.”

“Is this just an attempt to get me to put on your hideous glasses?” Malfoy took the glasses anyway.

“I can’t see you properly, so what’s the fun in that?” Harry shrugged, and watched as a very fuzzy Malfoy put on Harry’s glasses.

“Merlin, Potter, is this how you see all the time?” Malfoy said, startled and Harry just laughed.

“Yes, but only when I don’t have my glasses on.”

“How do you do anything?”

“I don’t.” Harry laughed. 

“I almost feel sorry for you, but I don’t.” Malfoy took off the glasses.

“See, this is why I am glad that I can’t see right now. I don’t have to look at your stupid face when you’re rude to me.” Harry batted his eyelashes pretending he was super charming.

“Don’t do that. It makes your eyes look weird.”

“Do what? This?” Harry widened his eyes a little more, put on the best puppy dog face he could manage and fluttered his eyelids softly.

“Stop, it makes your eyes look—”

“Beautiful?” Harry interrupted Malfoy.

“No.”

“Green, like a garden?”

“No.”

“Like shining emeralds?”

“No.”

“Pools of liquid jade?”

“No.”

“Gemstones brought down by angels?”

“No.”

“Like—”

“It makes you look like an idiot. Here—” Malfoy held out his hand to Harry, “Put your sodding glasses back on and eat your chocolate, you loon.”

“Fine.” Harry took and put back on the glasses; and the world slid back in to focus. A very clear Malfoy, with slightly pink cheeks and an unamused-but-actually-amused face, was watching him. 

The moment Harry bit into the chocolate it was like the entire universe was rolling on his tongue. Well, maybe that was an exaggeration, but it was _ so good _.

“Holy shit, that was amazing.” The creamy chocolate still lingering in Harry’s mouth despite having finished it.

“Here, have another one.” Malfoy held the box out again.

“No, there are only a few you should save them.”

“It’s okay, I brought them for you—to share with you, I think you’ll like this one.” Malfoy was pointing to another chocolate, he nodded to Harry with a smile.

This one was just as good as the last one, and Harry told Malfoy exactly that. 

They ended up finishing the chocolates and tea, and got back to working on planning the rest of the plants and pavers for Harry’s yard. Around twelve Harry was getting sleepy, yawning occasionally, and Malfoy took that as his que to leave.

***

_ Potter, _

_ Thank you for a pleasant evening yesterday. I am glad you enjoyed the chocolates. _

_ You never cease to amaze me with your talents. You are a great cook. _

_ I can come around on Monday and can start on your yard. _

_ Let me know if that is convenient, _

_ Draco _

_ Malfoy, _

_ I also enjoyed it. You should try using less formal words like pleasant, you know it was fun. Put some emotions into your words :P _

_ Cooking isn’t the only thing I’m talented at ;) _

_ Monday is good. _

_ Looking forward to it, _

_ Harry <3_

Saturday and Sunday were spent in his workshop. Harry decided that if he was going to put a piece of his artwork on display in his garden it had to be good. He liked the wire statue of a person half finished with the chest cavity open and no head. Instead of completing it, he was going to add many different smaller pieces flowing from the hollow space in the chest. 

It also distracted him from the fact that Malfoy and himself might have been flirting via letters— but probably not. The time they spent together on Friday was nice, very enjoyable. Sharing things with Malfoy he hadn’t shared with anyone in a long time and the implications of it was something that scared Harry. Like he does with all the things he doesn’t want to deal with, he locked it away in the back of his mind. 

_ Potter, _

_ I swear on Salazar Slytherin’s grave if you do not stop with your blasted markings I will set your yard on fire! Is that enough emotion for you? _

_ I am curious, what other things are you _ _ talented _ _ at? _

_ I will be around at 9:30. _

_ Draco _


	5. Chapter 5

“Potter!” Malfoy said, immediately as Harry opened the door and he stepped through. 

“What?” Harry was shocked by Malfoy’s outburst and taken aback, he couldn’t think of anything he’d done wrong. Shutting the door he followed Malfoy further into the house.

“Explain yourself!” Malfoy, who had continued walking turned abruptly and stormed back until he was less than an arm's length away.

“I’m not sure what—” Harry spoke, trying to understand what was going on but Malfoy cut him off.

“This!” Malfoy shoved a piece of paper at Harry’s chest. 

On inspection Harry realised it wasn’t just a piece of parchment; it was a letter and not just any; it was Harry’s letter from the other day. It all clicked, he wanted to know about the muggle faces and text talk.

“This is a letter?” Harry played dumb.

“I know that! It’s your bloody letter.” 

“Yes, I can tell by my almost illegible handwriting. Also I wrote it just the other day,” Harry handed the paper back, “Could you not read it?”

“Of course I could read it. I’m not illiterate. It’s these,” Malfoy stomped until he was right next to Harry, turned the letter so both of them could see it, and stabbed a finger at the winking face, “What. Are. These.”

All Harry could do was laugh. He wasn’t sure if he could get away with not telling Malfoy this time. The fact that he could still rile him up brought Harry great pleasure. It was very rare that Harry knew more things than Malfoy.

“Here,” Harry turned the paper sideways so all the faces were the right way up.

“I. Still. Do. Not. Understand.” Malfoy was getting even more frustrated.

“Look closely. What does it look like?” 

“I don’t know.”

“I’ll give you a hint; the ones I’ve used in this letter aren’t words or acronyms.” 

“Then what are they.” Curiosity and frustration mixing; creating an amusing expression on Malfoy’s face.

Harry pointed to his face.

“They’re you?”

“No— Yes. Kind of. Look with an open mind, how could it be me?”

Taking a deep breath, Malfoy bit back any comment he was going to make and looked at the faces.

“They’re faces?” Malfoy said, hesitantly.

“Yes!”

“Why couldn’t you just say that?” Malfoy scrunched up his face.

“That wouldn’t be any fun, would it?” 

“It’s been no fun for me! Pansy wouldn’t stop laughing! And no wonder; look at all those winking faces you sent me.” Malfoy’s face morphed into a sly smirk, “Is there something you would like to tell me, Potter?” 

“No?” Harry took a step back as Malfoy took one towards him, stepping into Harry’s personal space. Harry could smell the cologne Malfoy used; it had a soft smell of dewy moss and wood, with a hint of apple and spices, and something Harry couldn’t place. 

“Are you sure?” Malfoy took another step closer, and as Harry reached his hand up to push his glasses up his nose; Malfoy reached out and grabbed it before he could touch them.

They both froze, as if neither realised exactly what had happened. 

“Right.” Malfoy cleared his throat as his cheeks slowly turned a dark pink, “Your yard, let’s take a look shall we?” Malfoy let go of Harry’s hand and stepped back heading towards the backyard. Harry was honestly just happy Malfoy was no longer in his personal space and he could think again. Also that he didn’t bring up the heart, or the XOXOs.

_ That would definitely be awkward to explain. _

Once outside in the crisp air, Harry felt like he had regained control of himself. He hadn’t realised his body had reacted _ that way _ to Malfoy until he was outside, and it was going away. Taking breaths and calming himself, he regained control and started following Malfoy around the yard.

Every time Malfoy stopped he would cast a spell that Harry had never heard of. The spell Malfoy cast layered a 3D blueprint of the plan they had drawn up over the physical yard. Not being able to hide his amazement, Harry had let out an impressed “Ooh” and Malfoy gave him a self-satisfied smile.

Finishing the tour of the yard and having adjusted a few things, Malfoy suggested that they have tea before he started cleaning up the mess of overgrown plants and bushes. In the kitchen Harry made tea and they sat down at the bench to drink it. Malfoy noted that once the yard was finished they would be able to have tea outside. Harry ignored the way his heart skipped a beat at the implication that even once the yard was done they would still have tea. Malfoy showed no indication that he understood what Harry thought.

Back in the yard, Malfoy removed his sweater, folded it neatly and placed it in his bag. Harry wasn’t sure what to do. Did he stay there? Did he help? Did he go away? In the end he just decided to stay there looking on. Malfoy was wearing a long sleeved shirt, it was particularly cold that day. He rolled the right sleeve up to his elbow and moved on to the left. Partway through the rolling Malfoy stopped. 

Peeking out from under the edge of the sleeve was a tiny hint of The Dark Mark which marred Malfoy’s arm. Malfoy didn’t move and neither did Harry. Harry knew they both understood what it was, what it meant, the implications it held, and also the importance this moment had on the future. After taking a few deep breaths, during which Malfoy appeared to take none, Harry spoke up.

“It’s okay. You can roll it up. Don’t get your shirt dirty, it’s not worth it anymore.” Harry’s voice came out much firmer than he expected; none of the nerves he felt came through. 

While searching Harry’s face— Harry didn’t know what for— Malfoy, seemingly unconsciously, ran his finger up along the sleeve where the Mark was. Whatever Malfoy had been looking for he must have found because he gave a quick nod and rolled the sleeves up to just below his elbow. 

Up close the Dark Mark appeared slightly faded. It made his stomach clench and it felt like a Hippogriff was sitting on his chest because it was so hard to breathe. Neither he nor Malfory really had a choice back then. Harry knew that now, maybe not back then; but there was now years in between. Harry knew he couldn’t look away like it burnt him, nor could he stare at it, so he split the difference; looked it over once then walked over to where Malfoy stood, his eyes trained on him.

“Is there anything I can do?” Harry unzipped his hoodie and tossed it onto the ground, much to Malfoy’s disapproval.

“No, this is my job. You are _ paying _ me to do it. You do _ not _have to do anything,” Malfoy shook his head.

“Come on Malfoy, let me help. I want to.”

“You don’t know any of the clearing spells.” 

“I don’t need a spell, I’ve worked in a garden many times as a child. I have these,” Harry lifted up his hands and wiggled his fingers.

“You’re going to try and clear the yard with your _ hands? _ You’re a wizard you know?” 

Shrugging Harry knelt down wrapped his hand around a weed and pulled it out.

“See, easy. I’ll pull out the small ones and you can use your magic to remove the big ones.” Harry tugged another one from the soil. 

“I could just teach you the spell.”

“Nah, it’d take too long, I’m happy to do things with my hands.”

“Fine. Then, I would love your help.” Malfoy drew his wand and walked over to a large patch of overgrown vines further down the yard where he began casting.

Just before lunchtime Malfoy wandered back to where Harry was engrossed in his task pulling a large incredibly stubborn clump of weeds from the ground. Malfoy cast one spell and it broke free of the ground and vanished, then said he had to leave. Malfoy put his wand away and they headed towards the house. Harry went to wipe his dirty hands on his trousers Malfoy grabbed his hand, giving him an appalled look. He cast a wandless _Scourgify, _just like Harry saw when he was Gertrude. Except this time on Harry’s hands, and the dirt vanished. His hands tingled all over even once Malfoy’s magic had long left his skin; and he was too shocked by it all to make any comment about Malfoy showing off. 

Telling Harry that he would check his schedule and inform him when he would be able to come and work next Malfoy Apparated out of Grimmauld Place.

****

_Malfoy,_

_ Thanks for coming over today, I actually enjoyed working in the yard. (even if it wasn’t with magic) _

_ As you’ve probably gathered I’m basically free all the time, so I can work around your schedule. Only days I can’t do are Thursday evenings and Sundays. _

_ Harry_

_ Potter, _

_ I am glad you enjoyed it. You appear to be very good with your hands ;) _

_ I am tied up all this week with previous clients so it might have to be next week. _

_ If anything frees up I will let you know. _

_ Draco _

_ Malfoy, _

_ I’m great with my hands ;) _

_ I am very impressed with your incorporation of the faces into your letter repertoire. :P _

_ Whenever you’re free is fine. _

_ xoxo _

_ Harry _

***

Tuesday was spent in the workshop, sketching ideas for his sculpture for the garden. He was tempted to work on the half-human half-dragon sculpture, but decided against it.

On Wednesday Harry turned into Gertrude, he had come to think of his bird form as Gertrude rather than just a bird, and went flying. It was spotting lightly but Harry’s feathers kept out any moisture. He didn’t mind flying in the rain, it was a little hard when the rain was very heavy though. 

By the time Harry reached the yard, the rain had grown heavier and he expected he wouldn’t see Malfoy, yet he was kneeling next to a garden bed. He didn’t notice Harry at first, appearing to have a charm up to repel the rain as he wasn’t wet despite increasingly heavy rain.

“Oh Gertrude, hello. What a pleasant surprise.” Malfoy stood up and walked over, realising Harry was there.

Cawing, Harry hopped down along the branch towards where Malfoy was.

“Oh dear, you are very wet. Here let me—” Malfoy reached his wand up towards Harry and cast two charms in quick succession. The first charm was the same one Malfoy had on, it stopped the rain falling on Harry and the second dried him instantly. Both charms left Harry’s skin tingling and his own magic pulsing under his skin. 

“Much better. Now you will not get a cold… Do birds get colds, Gertrude?” Malfoy looked up with Harry with slightly narrowed eyes, trying to work it out.

_ This one does. _

“I will have to look it up.” Malfoy finished his contemplating and turned back to his work, “It’s too early for lunch, my darling, perhaps you could wait for a while; keep me company?” 

_ Did Malfoy just call him ‘my darling’? _

No, that was to Gertrude the bird— not Harry the human. Nevertheless it made butterflies flitter in Harry’s stomach. 

_ What was happening to him? _

Working in silence, Malfoy restyled the small garden bed he was working on. Harry enjoyed watching Malfoy work, it was relaxing and almost therapeutic in a way. He ignored the fact that it wasn’t just the way the yard changed that he enjoyed watching.

“I’m thinking, well I am not sure yet— I wanted your opinion— about Pansy’s wedding, maybe I will ask for a plus one.” Malfoy stopped working and stood up. This perked Harry’s interest; did that mean Malfoy had found someone to take?

“Recently I have been spending time with someone and I find that I have become quite irrationally fond of them.” Malfoy looked to Harry and took a breath, then looked back at the garden. Malfoy’s hair had become slightly disheveled and he had a slight pink tinge to his cheeks.

_ WHO? WHO? WHO? _

“I am not sure if he feels the same or not. We do have fun, and despite everything, we seem to get along really well. I worry I am just projecting my feelings on to him, and he thinks of us as only friends.” Malfoy sighed once he finished speaking.

_ Could he be talking about Harry? _

‘Despite everything’ that could mean all their past, right? Plus, they have been getting along really well. Maybe it _ was _ Harry. Which then begged the question as to why that made Harry’s heart race and what _ he _thought of Malfoy.

“I have been trying to spend as much time with him as I can, but I can’t manage much time.” Malfoy crouched down staring at a flower he had just planted, “I’m so busy with jobs and clients, that I rarely have time to see him.” Malfoy reached out and tapped the flower and it bobbed gently.

_ Right. _

_ Of course it wasn’t Harry _.

Harry was a job.

Harry was a client.

Harry wasn’t this mysterious ‘him.’ 

Which was fine, _ obviously _; because it was Malfoy after all.

So why was Harry so disappointed?

Ruffling his feathers, Harry decided he didn’t want to hear Malfoy talk about this mystery man that he was ‘becoming irrationally fond of’ anymore; so he spread his wings and left the branch.

“Gertrude, I think I like— Wait! We haven’t had lunch yet, I’m Sorry I…” 

Harry could hear Malfoy’s voice fade away as he travelled further towards anywhere where Malfoy wasn’t.

***

_ Potter, _

_ This Friday evening, I have managed to make some time, if you’re available we could have dinner? _

_ I am afraid it would be too dark and late to work in the garden; however, if you were interested in discussing some things further. I have a few more ideas, for your yard. _

_ Let me know if this is agreeable, _

_ Draco _

The letter arrived that evening, but Harry had been in a sour mood since meeting Malfoy as a bird. Which was obviously ridiculous because it didn’t matter or concern Harry who Malfoy liked and didn’t like. Besides, why was he trying to discuss more things with Harry when he could use that time to see his mystery man? Perhaps, he had already asked him and he said no and Malfoy knew Harry was always free so he decided to use this time to his advantage and meet Harry on Friday; thus he could use other time that he would talk to Harry to see this man. 

The letter was left on the bench unanswered as Harry slept that evening. 

***

Thursday evening rolled around and Harry still hadn’t replied to Malfoy’s letter. 

He took the letter in his hand and stared at it. Already late for Thursday drinks with Hermione and Ron, he knew he should put it down and leave. He should also reply to Malfoy.

_ He was a very in demand man after all. _Harry though much more bitterly than he should. 

He was still in an awful mood but hoped a night with his best friends could fix it. So, without replying to Malfoy he headed to the pub where Hermione and Ron were seated in their regular seats, and waved him over. A pint already sitting on the table for Harry and two happy smiles greeted him as he sat down.

The three of them had an unspoken rule; when they got together on Thursdays they talked about everyone’s week first and it was always in the same order; Ron, Hermione, and then Harry. So by the time Harry’s turn came around he had relaxed into the normality of their meetings, and the smile and laughter of his friends.

“Mate, how’s Malfoy going?” Ron said through a mouthful of chips, which got him a disapproving glare from Hermione.

“It’s actually going much better than I expected. He’s really good at his job.” Harry honest, at least about that. Not much else.

“Yeah, he’s so good isn’t he love?” Ron turned to Hermione for confirmation and she nodded, “He did and awesome job on our garden.”

“He started in the yard on Monday.” Harry sipped his pint, the alcohol from his two previous pints pleasantly flowing through his veins. 

“Really? Wow!” Hermione must have read Harry’s confusion because she continued; “Harry, his waiting list is _ months long _. He said he would squeeze us in, and it still took him a month before he even came to have a consultation with us, and then another month before he actually started in the yard.”

_ Hermione and Ron had to wait two months? How did Malfoy have time for him _ _ and _ _ everything else he’s doing _ _ and _ _ his mystery man? _

“Yeah, mate even we had to wait and he obviously wanted to do ours as soon as possible,” Ron said.

“So, what? I’m special?” As Harry spoke he could feel the heat rising in his cheeks and his heart quickened.

“I think you always have been.” Ron gave Harry a smile as Hermione nodded, “Besides, you are The Chosen One; no one makes you wait.” Ron laughed as he winked at Harry.

“Sod off.” Heat still rising to his face as Harry kicked Ron under the table.

“OW! HARRY!” Hermione yelped and frowned at Harry. 

He’d kicked Hermione, not Ron.

_ Fuck. _

“Sorry, ‘Mione.”

“You will be.” Hermione glared at him for a second before she laughed. 

“Hey, guys, who’s Pansy Parkinson getting married to?” Harry knew it was a change of subject, but you could draw the connections. Malfoy is a Slytherin, Parkinson is also a Slytherin, she’s getting married, logical connections; but it still got a suspicious look from Ron.

“Where’d you hear that, mate?” Ron looked down at his empty pint, disappointment on his face.

“Hmmm…” Harry pretend to think, “I don’t remember.” Harry flat out lied. 

“Right…” Ron was obviously not believing Harry’s lie.

“She’s marrying a Muggle—” Hermione spoke but was interrupted by Harry. 

“A _ Muggle? _” Harry said in disbelief. There was no way Parkinson was going to marry a muggle, Hermione must be wrong.

“Yes, Harry. A Muggle. People change. Malfoy is another example of that. Her name is Rosei—” Harry interrupted Hermione again.

“I didn’t know Parkinson was into women.”

“Harry, as a Bisexual you should be more adjusted to hearing people sexual orientations. Please refrain from interrupting me further,” Hermione said and gave him a stern glare. Happy that Harry wouldn’t interrupt again she continued.

“Her name is Roseilia Bardley and she is the cousin of a Muggle born Hufflepuff— Ben Henderson— who was two years below us. Pansy met Ben through her volunteer work the Orphans of War house. I believe they met through him somehow.” 

“Hmmm, I see.” It was quite a different world they lived in now, after the war. 

The conversation took a different path after that and Harry temporarily forgot about Malfoy. 

They parted ways and Harry arrived home, slightly buzzed in much more positive mood that when he’d left. Resolving he did want to see Malfoy the following day, even if Harry wasn’t this man Malfoy was talking about and he was only a client to him, Harry took out a quill.

**_ <s> Malfoy, </s>_ **

** _ <s>If you haven’t managed to organise to see your prospective boyfriend, then I would very much love it if you came over ;) ;) ;)</s> _ **

** _ <s> Dinner is good, as long as you’re desert ;) ;) ;) ;)</s> _ **

** _ <s> Xoxo</s> _ **

** <s> _ Harry _</s> **

Coming to the conclusion that scribbling out what he had written wasn’t enough and the entire letter needed to be destroyed; Harry set it on fire, destroying all evidence of it. Then, he tried again.

_ Malfoy, _

_ I’m sorry for the delay. If you’re still available, tomorrow sounds good. As long as you bring the dessert ;) _

_ Let me know about times and if you want to eat anything in particular or have any allergies. _

_ xoxo _

_ Harry _

Wondering if he should still use the faces now that Malfoy knew what they meant, Harry tied the letter to his owl’s— Cerillia— leg and sent her on her way. The kisses and hugs were still safe, he didn’t tell Malfoy about them.

_ Potter, _

_ I was beginning to wonder if I would hear from you. I thought perhaps you had fallen under one of your sculptures and you had perished there as you are such a recluse that no one would notice. _

_ No allergies. I’ll leave it up to you what to cook. Let’s see if you know what I like. ;) _

_ I will be over at 7:30 and will bring dessert. _

_ Draco _

_ P.S. Tell me what those X and Os mean. _

_ Malfoy, _

_ I have drinks with Ron and Hermione once a week, as long as I got trapped within the three days leading up to it, they’d find me… Probably. :P _

_ I’m pretty perceptive when it comes to what people like ;) _

_ See you at 7:30 _

_ xoxo _

_ Harry _

_ P.S. Never. _

***

At breakfast— a cup of tea— on Friday, Harry stood staring into the pantry for a good fifteen minutes. It was all good to joke around with Malfoy in slight innuendos, but actually thinking about it; Harry had no idea what to cook. For all the big talk he had done, Harry needed to make something nice. Not just spaghetti, but something _ fancy _. It’s not a date— of course— obviously. But if he didn’t make something nice that Malfoy would like, then it would be embarrassing. 

Something like steak and roast veggies was not _ nice _ enough. It was too simple. Not exotic. _ Too English. _ He needed something Malfoy wouldn’t have eaten before. A tin of coconut milk caught his eye and he knew what he was going to cook. 

Seven thirty came round particularly slow, Harry spent the day working on his wax sculpture and cooking, and by the time there was a knock on the door he was feeling very nervous. Which was ridiculous because it was Malfoy. Or maybe it _ wasn’t _ ridiculous because it _ was _ Malfoy. Harry didn’t know which thought was better. 

As he stepped through the door Malfoy handed Harry a box and told him it was dessert. They headed upstairs where Harry had laid out dinner on the table, and sat down.

“You think I will like _ this _?” Malfoy looked down at the bowl in front of him.

“Yes, I think you will.” Harry pushed his glasses up his face—stupid tick.

“I don’t recognise it, what is it?”

“Coconut curry.” Harry swallowed the dryness in his throat, he was becoming increasingly unsure about his dish choice. 

“Sounds interesting.” 

Waiting anxiously as Malfoy tried the curry, Harry didn’t move to take his own spoon.

“It’s really good,” Malfoy said with a smile, having taken two mouthfulls.

“I’m glad.” Harry let out a deep breath.

“It would be even better with some wine.” Malfoy had the audacity to wink at Harry, and Harry absolutely did _ not _blush.

Wine was chosen and they sat back down to continue their meal. Harry awkwardly asked Malfoy about his week, and Malfoy asked Harry about his. Slowly as the conversation flowed easier, and Harry began to relax— although the two and a half glasses of wine they had sure helped. 

Then Malfoy brought up Harry’s social life, to which Harry— quite embarrassingly— made clear he did not have. Much to Malfoy’s pleasure. Harry didn’t see many people, admitting that most weeks Harry basically saw only two people. Now three, if he included Malfoy; who tried to hide that he was pleased with that thought, but they were three glasses of wine in and he was much easier to read.

“Do you go to public events?” Malfoy tilted his head to the side, which he seemed to do unconsciously when he was listening.

“No, I thought we established I don’t go anywhere.” Harry laughed. Somehow even though it should be quite embarrassing, it was easy to joke about with Malfoy. 

“I meant like, a ball, or a charity event, or a wedding, or something.” Malfoy brushed his hair out of his face. Whether it was the wine that brought the flush to Malfoy’s cheeks or something else, Harry couldn’t tell; but in his highly tipsy state he allowed himself to think that it did look rather fetching. 

“No one invites me.” Harry looked away from Malfoy for a moment and back again, then shrugged.

Malfoy looked like he was going to say something, going as far to open his mouth slightly, then shut it and stayed quiet for the longest time. 

“Hard to believe The Chosen One can’t get a date.” Malfoy finally broke the silence. 

“It’s hard to get a date when you’re a recluse, besides people only like me because I defeated Voldemort and all that shit, they don’t even know _ me. _ ” Harry sighed as he stood up. He was still so bitter about people befriending and asking him out _ only _ because of his fame and status as _ The Chosen One. _

“Are you done?” Harry pointed to Malfoy’s empty dish, and Malfoy nodded so he took the dish and walked out the door. He would normally just Apparate, but he felt he just needed a little space. He was also bitter about Malfoy bringing up weddings, especially now that Harry knew about Malfoy and his fondness of some mystery man, who was probably not even that great. 

The problem was that Harry was rapidly becoming obsessed with Draco Malfoy, and not in the way he was at school. He even imagined hearing Malfoy whisper “_ I don’t like you because you’re The Chosen One” _ as he was part way down the stairs. Harry was more tipsy than he realised and had really, only just come to the conclusion that he might _ like _Malfoy, as in like-like.

By the time Harry walked back upstairs, Malfoy was sitting by the fire with the box he brought with him sitting next to him. It turned out that Malfloy had brought two small cheesecakes. Really, really, delicious cheesecakes. Harry brought them tea, and they sat by the fire drinking tea, eating the cheesecakes, and talking. 

They didn’t talk about landscaping that evening. 

***

That Sunday was a _ Molly’s Lunch So You All Better Get Back Home Or So Help Me _ day. The Burrow was bustling with family, children, and laughter. Despite it being a home for Harry, he would always get tired rapidly. The noise, the people, the constant questions, it was exhausting and always enough socialising for one week. 

Once it was socially acceptable to leave Harry slowly said quiet goodbyes to everyone, Molly saying that he should pop-round more often, not just at family lunches. As he was about to Apparate, Ron jogged up to him.

“Mate, wanna come for a pint?” 

“Won’t Molly have your head?” Harry knew Molly and she would not be impressed that Ron was trying to skip out early.

“Nah, well, yeah, but she keeps pestering ‘Mione and I about grandkids and won’t take ‘we’re currently focusing on our careers’ as a legitimate excuse.” 

“Well, as long as it’s your head not mine, I guess so.” 

They went to the pub and took a seat at their regular table, it was relatively empty because it was a Sunday afternoon. Harry ordered them pints and they sat and chatted. Ron told him about how work had been putting a stress on his and Hermione’s relationship, and they’d been having a little bit of a rough patch but were working through it. When the conversation lulled Harry decided to speak to Ron about what had been on his mind.

“Mate, I— I think I like Malfoy?” Harry ran his hand through his hair and took a mouthful of his pint to hide his anxiety.

“He’s become a good bloke, much more likeable that he used to be,” Ron said, as if Harry hadn’t told him one of the most terrifying things he experienced in the last few years.

“No, Ron, I think I like-like Malfoy, you know; the way you like Hermione.” Harry tore his eyes from the table in front of him to make eye contact with Ron. As much as he was anxious he needed to see Ron’s reaction.

“Yeah, mate, I know,” Ron smiled and thumped Harry on the shoulder. 

“What?”

“‘Mione and I already knew, mate. It was a little obvious.” 

“Wh— what? _ I _ didn’t even know? How did _ you _ know?” Harry was so confused. He had only realised two days ago, how did they already know?

“Well, you gave _ my _ leftovers to him—” 

“That doesn’t count, I was just being nice.”

“Well every time you talked about him you have a little smile on your face and sometimes I— even though it’s sometimes hard to tell— I can see you blush—”

“I do _ not _ blush!” Harry was appalled and horrified. 

“You do, mate. Like a schoolgirl.” Ron laughed, very much enjoying Harry’s embarrassment.

“Fuck off, I do not.” 

“Why would I lie, mate?”

“To embarrass me?” Harry narrowed his eyes at Ron.

“If I wanted to do that there are _ many _ other things I could do.” Ron waggled his eyebrows at Harry.

“You wouldn’t…” Harry didn’t know what Ron had in mind, but he knew it would be bad.

“Nah, I wouldn’t. You’re lucky I love you.” Ron grinned as he spoke.

“I love you too, mate.”

Even though Ron seemed like his normal self, Harry still worried that Ron wasn’t happy about Harry liking _ Malfoy_. 

“Are— is it— are you okay with it?” Harry needed to know they were okay.

“Of course, mate. Whatever makes you happy. You’ve been so much more _ alive _ since you stalked Malfoy in Diagon Alley.” Ron winked.

“I did not _ stalk _ Malfoy!” Harry said, he was smiling like an idiot but Ron’s support was everything he needed. 

“You kind of did, mate. Just admit it.” Ron punched Harry in the arm gently.

“Yeah, a little.” Harry could feel the heat in his cheeks, and Ron laughed.

“So, you going to do anything about it?” Ron leaned forward and placed his elbows on the table.

“Umm, I haven’t thought about it. I only realised on Friday…” 

“Friday! Mate, what took you so long?” 

“I wasn’t— it wasn’t something I was looking for?” Harry was confused as to why he should have known. 

“Well, that’s beside the point. You do what you want and ‘Mione and I will support you one hundred percent,” Ron said, and Harry was once again reminded that Ron had the biggest heart of everyone he knew.

***

_ Potter, _

_ I have freed up all of Tuesday so I can start properly on your yard. _

_ Perhaps if you’re free we could have dinner, too. There are a few things about your yard I wish to discuss. _

_ Draco _

_ Malfoy, _

_ Tuesday sounds good. _

_ You’re inviting me to a lot of dinners, is there some subtle message you’re trying to send me ;) _

_ Harry _

_ Potter, _

_ You wish ;) _

_ See you Tuesday, _

_ Draco _

***

Malfoy spent all Tuesday morning working in Harry’s yard. Harry brought tea to him just before noon, expecting him to come sit down with Harry and chat; but Malfoy placed it on the ground where he was working, drinking it in between casting. Harry hovered at first, but when Malfoy started working and tuned Harry out, he went back inside and came out occasionally to see if Malfoy needed anything. 

At lunch Harry invited Malfoy to have some sandwiches he made, but Malfoy came in ate the sandwich and returned to work, much to Harry’s disappointment. Harry spent the afternoon moving from his workshop, to the window— to watch Malfoy work, but he wouldn’t admit that to anyone—to outside chatting with Malfoy when he would reply, and to the living room where he read his books. 

In the afternoon, Malfoy had managed to clear over a third of the yard, making it almost a blank canvas; making the artist in Harry very happy. From the upstairs window Harry saw Malfoy walking towards the house, and scrambled to pretend he was reading his book and definitely not gazing at Malfoy. They spent two hours talking over finer details of materials for the yard.

When six thirty rolled around Harry decided that he would go make dinner to which Malfoy replied that he couldn’t really cook but would help if he could. Saying that he didn’t want to poison them both with Malfoy’s cooking, Harry said he could just help by keeping him company. Malfoy agreed and watched Harry cook, keeping light conversation and occasionally asking Harry about his Muggle cooking techniques. A part deep inside Harry was thrumming with the domesticity of it.

Even though Malfoy’s letter had said he wanted to have dinner because he wanted to talk more about the yard, there was no more landscaping talk that evening. 

***

After informing Harry that he was tied up until the following Thursday, Harry hadn’t heard from Malfoy. 

_ He’s probably tied up with his not-boyfriend _.

Harry wasn’t bitter— well he was— but he wasn’t about to admit it.

So after a few days he did what any normal person would do; he turned into a bird and went to investigate.

Heading straight to the house Malfoy worked on, Harry was pleased to see him sitting in the garden. When Harry hopped into his line of sight, he was greeted with a smile. 

“Hello Gertrude, I’m so glad you came. I was worried you wouldn’t come back after last time.” Malfoy immediately reached into his pouch, pulling out a container which had chopped up fruit and seeds in it. He held the entire container out to Harry as if he expected him— Gertrude— to just walk up and eat from Malfoy’s hand.

“Right, we’re not quite ready for that yet.” Malfoy placed the container on the ground in front of him and slid it forwards. Hesitantly, Harry walked over to the container and chose a small piece of apple. 

“You know, I’m almost disappointed you didn’t hop over. On the other hand; however, you never walk so it is quite funny to watch.” 

Ignoring Malfoy’s rude comment in favour of picking out another piece of fruit, Harry thought that he was _ so _fucked. He really did like Malfoy.

“So, Gertrude, Pansy has stated she’s sick of hearing my ‘love sick rambling’— her words not mine— and I was hoping you’d be happy to listen for a bit.” Malfoy picked a few strands of grass and tore them in half. 

A conversation Harry both simultaneously wanted and didn’t want to know. His curiosity won and he stayed, even going as far as to give Malfoy a soft caw in between mouthfuls of seeds. 

“Well, you know the man I was talking about the other day? The one I wanted to invite to Pansy’s wedding?” Malfoy paused as if he expected a reply, “I have been spending as much time with him as I can manage. It hasn’t been as much as I would have liked because I’m _ so busy _with work, but the time we have spent together has been really wonderful.” 

As Malfoy, out of nowhere, flopped back on his back on the grass, Harry jumped back with a squawk. It was something that Harry would have never expected from him, but since he ‘re-discovered’ Malfoy, he had experienced many things he would have never expected.

“I do sound like a ‘love sick’ fool, maybe Pansy is right?” Malfoy lay his forearm across his eyes, “Gertrude, you know the worst part?” Malfoy stopped here, as if he was unsure how to continue. 

Harry did want to know the worst part.

“We _ flirt _but I don’t know if that’s a product of our personalities and natural part of our friendship, or if he really does like me. People are so confusing, that is why I like you, you’re not confusing. You like food and I have food; so as an extension you like me,” Malfoy removed his arm from his eyes and lifted his head so he could look at Harry.

“I am so busy I can’t see him this week, even though there is nothing I would like more. Even next week I have struggled to fit him in. I am thinking about handing one of the properties I’m doing to one of my staff members.” 

That surprised Harry, he didn’t know Malfoy had staff; however, that was beside the point. Malfoy really seemed to like this man and even though it made his stomach twist— in a very unpleasant way— he liked listening to Malfoy talk about his feelings.

After Malfoy sighed heavily and sat up, he picked up the container looking quite defeated. Feeling brave and wanting to make Malfoy smile, Harry hopped closer to Malfoy and then up onto the edge of the container. He took a piece of banana and Malfoy laughed.

“Maybe we are ready for that.”

***

Draco came over Thursday the following week, apologising for being so busy that he wasn’t able to come sooner. Harry joked that he was a very in demand man— something Draco said ages ago— and they both had a laugh. The yard was cleared by the end of the day. Three trees were the only things left, even the grass was gone. Harry invited Draco to dinner but he apologised saying he had previous dinner engagements. Harry bet it was with _ The Mystery Wedding Man— _as Harry had dubbed him. He wanted to know, but it was honestly none of his business. 

On Friday, he went to see Draco as Gertrude, and he told Harry— Gertrude— that he saw “_ him” _ the previous day. Harry fucking knew it. Draco did have dinner with _ The Mystery Wedding Man _. That; however, was the extent of the conversation, he didn’t even tell Harry how it went.

***

The ensuing three weeks went quickly. Draco and he slipped into a routine. Draco would come over for a full day on Monday and Friday, and often came for a half day on Wednesdays if he could. Harry learnt that Draco spent all day Tuesdays and half a day on Thursday at the house where Harry always saw him as Gertrude. 

He found out because he sussed it out as a bird. Draco was always happy to see Gertrude so Harry kept going. In the back of his head he knew it was wrong, but he just couldn’t stop. Draco talked about anything from landscaping, to Pansy’s upcoming wedding, and occasionally his _ Mystery Wedding Man _— still giving Harry no clue as to who it was.

Spending time with Draco slowly became addictive. Wit as sharp as a blade and a flair for the dramatic made conversation with Draco fun and engaging. Lunch or dinner— depending on the day— was always spent talking about things other than landscaping. Neither of them brought it up, Harry wanted to pretend Draco enjoyed his company more than he actually did. 

Ron and Hermione started to refer to it as “Harry’s obsession with Malfoy that rivaled sixth year.” Of course they were always joking; happy that Harry was finally seeing people other than them, and enjoying life a little more.

***

“Show me your sculpture for the yard.” Draco had just finished the last bite of his dinner.

“It’s not finished.” Harry usually didn’t like to _ show _ people his unfinished work, but if Draco wanted to see it he would happily show him.

“I can just use my imagination.” Draco tapped his temple twice.

“Do you use it a lot?” Harry winked as he stood up.

Not dignifying Harry with a response, but with a pink tinge to his face, Draco headed to the door, “Coming or what?”

Down in Harry’s workshop he lead Draco to the sculpture at the back of the room. It hadn’t changed a lot since he decided to use it in the yard. That was because Harry spent most of his time with or watching Draco. Hopefully he wouldn’t notice, though.

“I like the use of negative space.” Draco gestured to the empty chest cavity and up to the missing head, “Are you going to add much more?”

“Umm,” Draco was standing so close to Harry their shoulders were lightly brushing every time either of them shifted and Harry was finding it increasingly hard to focus, “Yeah, I want to add some objects and even animals coming out of the empty areas.”

“Like what?” Draco turned his attention from the sculpture to Harry.

“Well,” He turned to Draco, which was a mistake because he was _ so close _, “Umm, like— birds.” 

“Birds.” Draco chuckled and it made the butterflies in Harry’s stomach flutter, “I like it,” Draco said and bumped his shoulder against Harry’s. 

“Maybe a dragon, too.” He hadn’t really thought it through that much, but both those animals came to mind immediately. 

On the counter lay a hand made out of wire, “This’ll go in it, too.” Harry pointed it out. 

“I believe it will look very lovely in your yard, especially since I am the one doing the yard,” Draco smiled at Harry.

“I think I should get some credit. I’m doing the sculpture, so I’m also technically doing the yard, right?” Harry said, and when Draco just raised an eyebrow at Harry, he nudged Draco back. 

“It is as a collaboration at most. Everyone knows I’m the brains behind the operation.” 

***

The next month passed faster than Harry expected and they were now way passed the middle of spring. Flowers in the garden of the other yard Draco was working at had bloomed nicely, and Every time he visited— as a bird— Harry thought he might not mind flowers if Draco was sitting beside them. Draco was spending more time than ever at Harry’s house and in the yard, once they even went out to have coffee again. Jack and Nell were both working that day and when Draco had his back turned they both gave him an over the top wink and thumbs up. How they even knew Harry liked Draco was beyond him. 

_ Potter, _

_ I saw an advertisement for a sculpture exhibition today and was wondering if you had been? It is on until next week at the Tate Modern. _

_ If you have not been yet, perhaps you would like to accompany me? _

_ Draco _

_ Malfoy, _

_ I haven’t been yet, but it looks amazing. One of my favourite artists has a few pieces there so I am very interested. _

_ I would love to accompany you— are you perhaps asking me on a date? ;) _

_ Harry _

_ Potter, _

_ Wonderful. I will come past your place on Friday at 5 and we can go together. _

_ You wish. ;) _

_ Draco _

The thing was, Harry did wish. He wished very much so.

_ He was so screwed. _

*** 

“Good evening,” Draco said as Harry opened the door. Despite coming to the end of spring the weather was still on the cooler side and Draco was wearing a pair of grey slacks and a thin maroon sweater. His hair looked freshly cut, as it was shorter than when Harry had seen him last time, but still had the same style— and looked amazing.

“Evening, shall we head out?” Harry had dressed nice because even though it wasn’t a date, he could pretend, right? Black trousers and a green sweater, was what Harry chose. Hermione took him shopping, after he voiced his fears about having no nice clothes to wear to her when he had slightly too much alcohol.

As they Apparated and walked to the Tate, Harry tried not to show his elation at the fact that they were basically wearing each other’s house colours. Draco insisted on paying the entrance fee to the exhibition, saying that he invited Harry so it was his obligation to pay.

They walked around the normal part of the gallery, Harry pointing out his favourite pieces— most were sculptures but he also had favourite paintings too. Draco made comments about how he was impressed by Harry’s knowledge and understanding of the works, and would ask questions about technique and style.

In the special exhibition, Harry spent a long time at each sculpture inspecting and looking over every part. Draco, followed him the entire time, letting Harry take as much time as he needed; listening if Harry ever had a fact or comment about the pieces. 

Harry walked around to the back of one of the sculptures to where the artist had used a technique that Harry explained earlier and he wanted to use this piece to show Draco an example of how it could be used.

“Hey Draco, look at this. The artist ha—” Harry started but immediately stopped. 

He had just called him _ Draco _. Harry hadn’t done that before. Ever.

In fact, he couldn’t even remember when Malfoy stopped being Malfoy in his head and became _ Draco _. 

Tearing his eyes from the bottom of the sculpture, Harry hesitantly looked up through the oval hole in the middle of the piece to where Draco was standing. Eye’s wide and dust of pink across his cheeks, Draco had a grin on his face. When they met eyes, Draco appeared to try and school his features, but only managed to reduce the grin to a smile.

“The artist what?” Draco said after a beat, and walked around the edge of the sculpture until he was right next to Harry— so close Harry could smell the apple of what _ had _to be Draco’s shampoo, and the woody moss and spices that were in his cologne. 

A soft brush on the back of Harry’s hand at his side made his heart skip a beat and set off in a race. The back of Draco’s hand was pressing against his gently and Harry found he didn’t have the ability to use words for a moment.

“A— at the bottom,” Harry swallowed trying to get his heart under control, “the artist used that technique I was telling you about, the one where you wrap the wire in on itself.” Harry tried desperately not to focus solely on their contact. 

Pausing for a moment Draco took a breath before moving his hand and pointing at the part of the artwork Harry was talking about. 

“There?” 

“Yes.”

***

A month passed since their _ not-date-but-Harry-could-still-pretend-it-was _visit to the Tate. It was spent the same way as the two months prior; Draco came to work on Harry’s yard, Harry visited Draco as Gertrude, and Harry sculpted. The only difference was Harry hadn’t reverted to calling Draco, Malfoy. Draco still called him Potter, but the small smile Draco had Every time Harry called him Draco was enough.

It was the beginning of summer and a particularly lovely day— not a cloud in sight. Draco was working on the vegetable garden all morning, and had only just come in for lunch. Harry had made a greek style salad and some sandwiches.

“It’s funny,” Draco said, finishing half of his sandwich. 

“What is?” With no lead up to Draco’s comment, Harry had no idea what he was talking about.

“There is another yard I work on, not too far from here,” He paused here and waited for Harry’s nod, “and there is this bird who always visits me— Gertrude.” 

_ Oh shit. _

_ Was Draco on to him? _

Laughing to cover his anxiety, Harry tried to quell his racing heart, “Draco, did you call a random bird Gertrude?”

“Yes I did, Potter. It is a very _ dignified _name for her, and she is my friend.” Draco turned his nose up at Harry, and Harry relaxed a little. It didn’t seem like he was on to Harry.

“Yes, very dignified, go on.”

“Well, it’s so close I had assumed she would come around here, too.” Draco shrugged. 

_ Fuck. Was it suspicious that Gertrude didn’t come around to Grimmauld Place? But Harry and Gertrude can’t be in the same place at the same time because they’re the same person, and Harry can’t just fuck off and become Gertrude while Draco’s at his house. _

“Maybe Gertrude doesn’t live this side of the house?” Harry suggested as a way to explain her absence. 

“It is odd though, Jackdaws are a relative of the common crow; and thus they can travel up to fifty kilometres a day, _ and _she almost always flies in from this direction.” Draco frowned slightly, “I wonder why I never see her here.”

Before he could stop himself Harry spoke up.

“Well, you never see Batman and Bruce Wayne together.”

_ Fuck. _

_ Shit. _

_ Balls. _

Draco frowned.

_ Merlin, why did he say that? _

“I have never heard of a bat-man creature before, and I am not sure who this Bruce Wayne man is either.” Draco frowned tilting his head, “_ And _ I cannot find the connection between them and this situation.”

“It doesn’t matter.” Harry shook his head vehemently. His heart was pounding in his chest and he felt faint. 

“Well, I am disappointed that you have not been able to meet her, I like her very much. I hope your birdbath and feeder might bring her here.”

“Me, too. She sounds like a delight.” Harry ran a hand through his hair. The crisis averted, but it made Harry feel guilty again.

***

It happened a day in the middle of summer, around a month after the _ Batman incident _, when Harry was visiting Draco as Gertrude. 

Harry arrived and saw Draco sitting in the garden. Flying around to the front, it was clear to Harry that something was wrong. Draco loved his work, and always seemed at peace doing it— more often than not with a small smile on his face. Today, however, his face was drawn into a deep frown, lips pressed into a thin line, and eyes vacantly staring at nothing. 

_ Had Draco been rejected by the man he liked? _

Chest clenching tightly, he flew down until he was right in front of Draco. Something was wrong and it distressed Harry greatly. 

“Oh, Gertrude.” Draco turned his eyes to Harry. He looked tired.

Hopping closer Harry made a decision, he had never let Draco hold him before as he was too worried it would look suspicious, but today Draco needed him— Gertrude. Draco had his knees pulled up to his chest with arms wrapped around them, and in one jump Harry landed right on his knee.

“Gertrude!” Draco’s whole body shook with surprise before he froze. Harry was worried he was going to shoo him away or something worse, but he didn’t; he smiled— not enough to put a light back in his eyes though. 

“If I pat you, will you you fly away?” Draco slowly lifted his arm.

Cawing, Harry ruffled his feathers slightly, but stayed exactly where he was.

“Okay, I promise I won’t hurt you.” Draco touched his hand to Harry’s feathery back, and when Harry didn’t move he stroked it down to his tail. Every spot that Draco’s hand touched tingled. Harry knew he shouldn’t be this happy about it, he shouldn’t be here— this was Draco’s privacy. He didn’t know it was Harry.

For the next few minutes Harry sat on Draco’s knee and he patted Harry.

“Mother, she—” Draco started, but he paused and swallowed, “She has fallen quite ill. They are not sure what is wrong with her.” 

Feeling his heart constrict, Harry cawed softly at Draco again. 

“The Healers say they are going to run some tests, but as a Malfoy she is not a high priority.” Draco sighed. 

That infuriated Harry, if she was as ill as Harry thought— Draco wouldn’t react this way if it wasn’t severe— she should be high priority. 

_ It shouldn’t fucking matter if she’s a Malfoy or not. _

“I worry for her, Gertrude.” Draco ran a finger down Harry’s head to his neck, “I’ve always liked your feathers here.”

They stayed like that for another ten minutes in silence, then Draco softly pushed Harry until he hopped off and Apparated away.


	6. Chapter 6

In the following two weeks, Draco worked in Harry’s yard less, and only once stayed for dinner. He was agitated and upset— often quite distant. When Draco stayed for dinner Harry did his best to distract him, and for a few moments it worked. Draco would smile and sometimes laugh with Harry, lock his eyes on him as if Harry was the funniest person in the world; and it always left Harry’s heart soaring.

The moment would pass; however, and Draco would practically shrink back in on himself. Harry had tried to ask him what was wrong— Harry wasn’t supposed to know, it was Gertrude who knew— but he was dismissed every time. 

“It’s okay if you don’t want to tell me now, I can wait until you’re ready. It’s also okay if you never want to tell me, but you don’t have to be alone,” Harry said, on the doorstep, trying to bring some comfort to Draco. 

Draco only nodded before turning and Apparating away.

***

Not seeing, or hearing from Draco for four days, after the night on Harry’s doorstep, made him anxious; he couldn’t even find him as Gertrude. Harry voiced his concerns to Ron— leaving out Narcissa being sick of course. Ron told him to give Draco some space, but make sure he knows he’s not alone in whatever he’s going through, and when Draco felt up to sharing be there so he can.

The fifth day had Harry flying around trying to rid himself of pent up stress and anxiety. Not expecting to see Draco, but he still went to the house because he hoped he would. Some deity must have been smiling down on Harry because Draco _was_ in the yard.

“Hello Gertrude.” Draco smiled as Harry landed on the table close to where Draco sat on the patio. He looked better than the last time Harry saw him. His smile, albeit small, was genuine and he looked calmer. 

Perhaps Narcissa was feeling better.

“I am sorry I have not been around lately. I have a lot going on.” Harry hopped closer to Draco as he spoke, and when he was close enough, jumped from the table onto Draco’s lap. Immediately, Draco’s hands were running along his feathers— bringing them both comfort.

“They took Mother in for testing yesterday, we should get the results soon.” Draco sighed, “She is so strong you know. She gives me strength and courage— she lied right to Voldemort’s face, and even now in the face of the unknown she tells me that I should be living my life. Not wasting my time sitting by her side when I should be trying to spend it sitting by someone else's. Chasing my own happiness.”

Summer had passed it’s middle but it was still relatively warm, the breeze blew Draco’s hair around his face and ruffled Harry’s feathers. They sat together, Draco continuously patting Harry. Despite knowing that birds don’t— or almost never— do this kind of thing, Harry did it anyway.

“Tomorrow I think— no— I _will _ask ask him to Pansy’s wedding. I will borrow some of Mother’s courage and ask.” Draco tapped Harry on the top of the head lightly. 

“You’re a good friend Gertrude, thank you.” Draco slid Harry off his lap and Apparated away.

Gertrude was a good friend. 

_Harry wasn’t._

He spied on Draco, and somewhere in the back part of his heart he hoped that _The Mystery Wedding Man_ would say no to Draco. 

_Harry was an awful friend._

***

_Potter,_

_I am so sorry I have not contacted you. _

_If you are available tomorrow evening after dinner, I would very much like to come over and have some tea. If it is acceptable to you of course._

_I have some things about your yard I would like to discuss. _

_Draco_

Draco was planning to come over to see Harry after dinner to talk about yard stuff. That meant that he was most likely having dinner with the man he was going to ask to Parkinson’s wedding. Which in turn meant that he would get front row seats to Draco’s reaction— and by association, what the man’s reply was. Knowing meant that; either way Harry would feel bad. If Draco was happy and the man said yes— Harry would be unhappy and jealous, and if Draco was sad and the man said no— Harry would be happy that he said no, but sad because Draco would be sad and _guilty _because he was happy. Despite that, Harry really wanted Draco to come over. It would be a week since he had seen him as a human, and he missed him immensely.

_Draco,_

_That’s okay, whatever you’re going through, I understand you need time._

_I would love for you to come over. _

_I’ll be here all evening. _

_Harry_

***

Not specifying a time meant that Harry had been left a nervous wreck from about eight. “After dinner” wasn’t a time it was a feeling. By the time nine thirty passed, Harry wondered if Draco was even coming. His hair was a mess— having run his hand through it far too many times, and he had stared at the same sentence for two hours. Harry had become hyper sensitive to every noise in the house, straining his ears for a knock at the door. 

_He’s probably off snogging that bloke and has forgotten about me._

At nine fifty three when there was a knock at the door; Harry felt his soul leave him for a second. He was so _nervous_. Harry stood up from the counter and straightened out his clothes; a pair of black jeans and a black t-shirt, then pushed his glasses up his nose.

After practically running to the door, Harry stopped to compose himself. 

_It doesn’t matter what has happened. You must greet him with a large smile and a warm heart. He needs it whether he said yes or not. He is your friend. _

Standing on the other side of the door was Draco, dressed in a pair of black jeans— as well— a dark green cardigan, and a white shirt. His face was unreadable, if not on the slightly agitated side. Harry didn’t know what that meant, but gave him a big smile and stepped aside to let him in.

Wordlessly, they headed up to the first floor where Harry had placed tea and cake in front of the fire. Harry went straight to sit down there, but Draco spent five or so minutes walking around the room looking at Harry’s art— even though he’d looked at them many times before, possibly more than Harry.

The more time passed, the more nervous Harry became. Draco was just standing, unmoving, staring at one of Harry’s smaller pieces next to the window. Had he been rejected? Harry thought it’d be clearer.

“Would you like some tea?” Harry spoke softly, trying not to spook Draco. There was a moment when Harry wasn’t sure if Draco actually heard him, but then he turned around.

“Yes, I would.” Draco smiled softly. 

Striding across the room to where Harry was, Draco paused a moment next to him before dropping down to the floor, so close to Harry that their knees bumped together. Harry let out a soft chuckle which Draco mirrored. 

“How was your day?” Harry tried to test the waters and passed Draco his tea.

“It was busy, I’m sorry I am so late.” Draco took the tea and looked down at it.

“It’s fine, no problem at all.” Harry nudged Draco’s shoulder with his own, “Cake? I made it.”

“Please.” Draco took the piece of cake from Harry and ate some, “Your cakes are always the best.”

“High praise,” Harry laughed as his chest rawed with pride.

Humming in reply, Draco fell silent again. Harry wasn’t sure if he should keep trying, or just let them sit in silence for a little while. Draco’s mood was largely unreadable, quiet but tense. He didn’t seem devastated or elated as Harry had expected, and it threw him off a little.

Finishing his cake, Harry wondered if he should do something, Draco said he wanted to talk about the yard right? Perhaps, Harry should bring it up? It was late, though, and Draco said he had a busy day and he might want to relax and not think about work. He took a sip of his tea and looked over at Draco. The fire reflected in his eyes as they were trained on it, the dim lighting of the room and the light from the fire shrouded him in a golden glow, he looked _beautiful._

Placing his tea on the floor next to him, Harry turned his attention to the fire. He had it lit all year round, even in summer. When it was hot, he would place a cooling charm on the room and leave the fire on. He liked to watch if flicker, it reminded him of Sirius, and when they would Firecall. 

“Harry,” Draco said, so softly that Harry thought he’d imagined it, but realised he hadn’t when Draco placed his own tea cup next to himself and turned his whole body to face Harry.

Taking a moment to calm himself, Harry took a deep breath; Draco had never called him Harry before and his heart was racing. Even if Draco called him Harry every day for a million years he would never get sick of hearing it on Draco’s lips. Harry didn’t know what Draco was going to say, but he was always good at running headlong into things. So he too turned his whole body so they were now facing each other, knees of their crossed legs touching. 

“Yeah?” 

“Twenty eighth of November.” Draco glanced at the fire then back to Harry, “What are you doing?” 

“Um, I’m not sure.” Harry frowned, how was he supposed to know what he was doing in November? “What day is it?” 

“Saturday.” Draco fidgeted with his hand running his finger along the seam of his jeans.

“Well, it’s not a Sunday or a Thursday, so I suppose I don’t have anything planned?” It was a long time to be thinking ahead, maybe because Narcissa was so ill he wouldn’t be able to work again until then? Perhaps that’s why he was acting strange; he felt bad because he would have to stop doing Harry’s yard.

“Come with me to a wedding.” Draco looked straight at Harry with nothing but determination on his face.

_What_.

“What?” Harry sounded bewildered even to his own ears.

“Pansy is getting married that day, come with me.” Draco’s fingers which had been fidgeting against his pant leg reached forward until his palm was rested against his own leg and fingers were brushing against Harry’s knee.

_Parkinson’s wedding???? He must have been rejected. _

“You want me to go?” Half of him was ecstatic that Draco wanted to take him, the other half was confused as to why he’d ask Harry. 

“Yes.” Draco didn’t waver at all, and Harry thought he might drown under his gaze. 

“You want to take _me_?” Maybe Draco didn’t have anyone else to ask and decided on Harry.

“Yes, _you_. I asked _you_, there is no other Harry in this room.” Draco looked around, then immediately back to Harry.

“You want to take me as a…” Harry held his breath as he trailed off.

“A date,” Draco said, as if it were obvious, and Harry’s entire body felt like it was on fire. He tried to tell himself that that’s what you take to weddings. Your plus-one is your ‘date’ doesn’t matter who it is.

“You want me to go as your _date_?” Harry wasn’t exactly sure why but he had to clarify everything, lest his heart explode. 

“Yes, I am asking you— Harry James Potter— to be my date for the wedding of my best friend Pansy Parkinson.” Draco smiled. Harry pushed his glasses up his nose.

“Am I making you nervous?” It was soft and not as in jest as it had been on previous occasions.

“Yes.” With Draco’s eyes boring into his soul Harry didn’t think he could lie.

“Here.” Draco leant forwards, his face was less than twenty centimetres from Harry’s own. Harry’s eyes slipped from Draco’s and down to his lips. Harry could feel a fire burning under his cheeks.

_Was Draco going to kiss him?_

Reaching out with both hands, Draco gently plucked Harry’s glasses from his face— the world blurred— and placed them on the ground next to him.

“Better?” Draco’s voice was light and Harry could make out the curve of a smile on his face. 

“Um, no— Ye— I can’t see you now.” Harry frowned and squinted slightly trying to see Draco more clearly. 

“You don’t need to squint, it’s okay if you can’t see, might help reduce your nerves.” Draco placed both hands on the top of Harry’s knees, “Besides, without your glasses, your eyes look so vibrant I swear there are thousands of stars behind them.” 

Another wave of fire ripped through Harry’s body, it was like all the nerve endings were alight. Even though Draco was very blurry he could feel his eyes on him, so Harry turned his head unable to meet his eye.

“Harry…” He would never get sick of hearing Draco say his name.

“Yes.” He looked back at Draco.

“What is your answer?”

“Will I be your…”

“Date.”

Harry didn’t know how to answer, he wanted to. More than anything. But if Draco had just come from wherever he had been and just been rejected by some other man, and was now only here to ask Harry because he didn’t have anyone else; Harry didn’t know if he could say yes and not have his heart shatter into a million pieces. 

“Harry… I’m trying to ask you on a date—”

_Wait._

“—to a wedding—”

_Hold up._

“—that I have wanted to invite you to—”

_Hang on, just a second._

“—since the date was set.”

_Wait… What? _

Draco had wanted to invite him since the date was set?

_Which meant that… _

_Harry_ was the Mystery Wedding Man that Draco had been talking about_?_

Which meant that Draco liked Harry, _too_. 

It was highly likely that Harry’s heart was going to give out any moment due to how fast it was beating. Harry couldn’t keep the grin off his face. 

Draco _liked_ him. 

The same way Harry liked Draco. 

“Yes!”

“What?” Draco appeared momentarily thrown off by Harry’s sudden answer. 

“Yes, I will go on a date with you to your best friend's wedding.” Harry’s face felt like it was splitting with his grin. 

“You will?” Draco sounded like he almost didn’t believe it, but Harry could see the blurry shape of his smile. Wishing he was still wearing his glasses so he could see Draco’s face, he nodded his head vigorously, trying and failing to hide his excitement.

Instead of saying anything Draco slid one of his hands gently along Harry’s thigh until his thumb and fingers wrapped around his hip, and brought the other up and placed it on Harry’s chest— right over his heart. For a brief moment they both stayed like that, and Harry felt like he was floating in a cloud. 

Balling his fist in Harry’s shirt Draco pulled him in, bringing their lips together. Draco’s lips were soft and warm against his own. When Harry didn’t pull away Draco moved his hand from Harry’s shirt and up into his hair, pulling him closer. 

As Harry moved one hand to the nape of Draco’s neck and the other to his bicep, Draco moved his mouth against his and Harry responded. Curling his fingers in the short hairs under his hands, Harry opened his mouth when Draco’s tongue swept across his lips.

Just as Harry tilted his head one way, Draco tilted his as well and their noses bumped. Harry let out a breathy laugh against Draco’s smiling lips. As Draco deepen the kiss Harry ran his hand up Draco’s arm, across his shoulder and down to just above where Draco’s heart was. Feeling the fast beating in Draco’s chest under his palm and his tongue in his mouth pulled an involuntary moan from Harry. 

Dragging his fingers along Harry’s side and up until his hand was splayed across Harry’s shoulder blade, Draco shifted into a kneeling position; which meant that if Harry wanted to keep their lips connected— which he very much did— he had to tilt his head back. 

Caught up in the feeling of Draco’s hands on his body, Harry’s entire being felt like it was enveloped in an inferno. When Draco pulled his hair back lightly, he let Draco lower him backwards to the floor. 

Looking up at Draco, who had one knee between Harry’s legs and one on the outside and his hands roaming over Harry’s shoulders, Harry wished Draco hadn’t removed his glasses earlier. Harry ran his fingers across Draco’s stomach and grinned when he felt the muscles there twitch under his hands. 

Grabbing Draco’s shirt Harry pulled Draco down closer and pressed their lips together. Harry moaned as Draco moved his thigh against the erection. 

Draco did it again, and again, and again. He pulled away from Harry’s lips to press open kisses along his jaw and down his neck, driving Harry insane. Harry dug his hands into Draco’s shoulder and when Draco went to move his thigh again, Harry moved his own up grinding it against Draco’s erection. 

The breathy moan in Harry’s ear sent a shiver down his spine, and he let his head roll back for a second. Harry reached his arm out sideways to get more leverage to push up and grind against Draco.

Clanking of his mug as it was knocked off the plate drew Harry’s attention to the newly spilt tea next to his hand, and he stilled. The situation finally dawning on Harry. 

He hadn’t been with anyone since Ginny; and even they didn’t do much. They ended their relationship on good terms and are good friends even now, but their love life had been quite a mess, to say the least. It was all moving too fast for him and he was not ready for this; at least not yet. It wasn’t like he didn’t want to— Merlin he wanted to so bad— but he just _couldn’t_.

A wave of panic rolled over Harry, as Draco brought their lips together again. Placing both hands on Draco’s chest and pushing back firmly so Draco sat up, Harry scrambled back. Harry patted around for his glasses, which Draco handed to him immediately. 

Lips bright red from kissing, cheeks flushed, and hair an absolute mess from when Harry ran his hands through it, Draco stared at Harry in confusion.

“Sorry I thought—” 

“No, it’s okay I just— I’m not—” Harry spoke over Draco, but he didn’t know what to say.

“It’s fine. I’m sorry I—” Draco returned to a seated position crossing his legs.

“How’s your mum?” Harry blurted out over Draco.

“We just snogged like horny teenagers, and you want to talk about my _mother?_” Draco looked at him like he was insane.

“She—is she feeling— did you get the test results?”

“_What?”_ Draco furrowed his eyebrows, demeanor completely different to thirty seconds prior.

_Fuck._

_He_ didn’t know. Harry wasn’t supposed to know.

Gertrude knew; Harry didn’t.

“I saw— the other day in— I overheard Zabini talking about it— In Diagon Alley,” Harry said, putting his hands up in surrender but it just made Draco madder.

“_Blaise doesn’t know._”

“Maybe it wasn’t Zabini, I can’t remember.” 

“_No one_ knows.”

“I—” 

“The only people who know are the healers, Mother, and I…” Draco trailed off, and then understanding pass across his face before pure rage replaced it. 

“You have to be fucking kidding me.” Draco didn’t yell, but anger radiated out of him.

“Draco it’s not what—”

“Seriously, Potter?”

“Draco, please I—”

“You think it’s funny? Is that why you did it?_Let’s spy on the ex-Death Eater! It’ll be hilarious, and then we can laugh behind his back! Then we can make him fall for me and we can have the last laugh one more time!_ Fuck you.” Draco stood, seething. 

“Draco, that’s not what—” Harry stood as well, and reached out to Draco, but just had his hand slapped away.

“You’re not pretty enough to be this stupid, Potter.” Draco shook his head.

“It wasn’t—”

“A _bird?_ Seriously?” Draco clenched his fists, knuckles whitening. Harry took another step forward but Draco recoiled. 

“Please it wasn’t like—”

“You know what? I envy people who haven’t met you.” Draco was looking at Harry as if he could set him on fire just with his eyes.

“Hey, that’s not fair.” Harry knew Draco had every right to be mad, but it still hurt. They had been so close; he was finally getting what he wanted.

“No. You know what’s not fair? Having someone turn into a bird and _stalk _you, and listen to every secret and go laugh about them with their friends.” Draco took a step towards Harry, he was so imposing that Harry took an involuntary step backwards. 

“That’s not what I did, you know that. Draco, please listen to me. It wasn’t like that.” Harry stepped backwards again as Draco further encroached on his space.

“Go on, keep talking— one day you’ll say something intelligent.”

“Hey! That’s not fair!”

“So you keep saying.” Draco came closer still and Harry’s back hit the wall.

“You know I didn’t mean it like that. At first I wanted to see what you were doing, but then I liked spending time with you. Look, I would never—”

“Are you always this stupid, or is today a special occasion?” 

“I know you’re angry, and I understand.” Harry had to look up at Draco because he was so close and he could see every angry line across his face.

“I don’t know what makes you this stupid, but what ever it is; it works.” Draco sneered down at Harry.

“You know what. Fuck you.” Harry took a step around Draco. He did do something wrong, but he didn’t have to take abuse.

“No, Potter.” Draco grabbed his arm, “Fuck you.” 

“In all honesty, Malfoy, after following you, I’ve realised you haven’t been yourself lately, and frankly, we’ve all noticed the improvement.” Harry yanked his arm from Draco, who let out one sharp laugh.

“It’s better to let someone think you are an idiot than to open your mouth and prove it; and you continue to fatal mistake.” Draco raised his eyebrow at Harry, his cheeks red with anger.

“Do you realise that people just tolerate you?” Harry felt the anger bubbling up from deep within him. Draco always did bring the worst out of him. 

They had stopped even having a coherent argument and it devolved into them just throwing insults at each other.

“Oh, Harry, darling, if you’re going to be too faced, at least make one of them pretty; if not for me, for the children.” Draco stormed towards the door.

“If I ever wanted to kill myself all I’d have to do is climb your ego and jump.” Harry stalked over to where Draco was; he couldn’t stop himself, the words just kept flowing out.

Stopping abruptly at the doorway, Draco drew up to his full height, turned around and stormed back over to Harry. He then hunched down so he was eye level with Harry.

“They say opposites attract, and I really hope you meet someone _else _who is good looking, intelligent, and cultured; because it isn’t going to be me.” Draco sneered at him, stood straight again, and Apparated away.

The room was engulfed in silence and Harry felt like he was suffocating. He slowly sunk to his knees where he stood, and drew in a shaky breath.

*** 

_Draco,_

_I understand you’re mad. I didn’t mean to invade your privacy, it wasn’t fair. You have every right to be mad. _

_I never meant to hurt you. _

_I never meant it as anything malicious or evil. At first I was just curious as to what you were doing. That was how I found out that you were a different— changed— man; someone who I would like to get to know. That is why I sought you out in Diagon Alley. _

_After that, I just couldn’t stop visiting you, I got to see a side of you that’s different to anything I had ever seen._

_You have become a fantastic and strong man— someone I am proud to call my friend. I want you to know that. _

_I’m not asking you to not be mad, I just want you to understand why._

_Harry_

***

Harry looked down at the news papers splayed across his counter. Unsure which one Draco would read he had contacted _every_ newspaper company he could think of, and got them all to run the article. They all, of course, ran the article; jumping over themselves for an article by the Chosen One himself— especially since Harry hadn’t been heard from in about a year.

It detailed Draco’s company’s amazing work in his yard, boasting about how Draco was professional, talented, good at his job, and the best available. The article quoted Harry in saying that; “_There was no one else I would trust more to do my yard, and no one who could do it better than Draco.”_

Each company had written their own accompanying article about the previous, Potter-Malfoy rivalry and all of their history. They had all asked Harry for a quote on that, but he didn’t give them one.

All he hoped was that Draco would read _one _of the articles.

***

Harry stood nervously in the florist, he pushed his glasses up his nose and shifted his weight from one foot to the other. Despite wearing a Glamour, he was still conscious of people and worried that they would recognise him.

“Mr Baker?” The young woman at the register said.

“Yes.” Harry stepped forwards.

“This is our recommended bunch of flowers for ‘winning back a lover’ you requested.” She placed a large bunch of flowers on the counter. 

It had lilies, carnations, orchids, and tulips; along with a few flowers Harry didn’t recognise. Harry blushed when she loosely quoted him. He didn’t say _to win back a lover_, but she must have gotten that impression.

“It’s lovely, I’ll have it.”

The florist passed Harry a card to write a message on. 

He wrote;

_Draco, _

_I didn’t mean to invade your privacy. _

_I didn’t mean to hurt you._

_I didn’t mean to say those awful things._

_Please know that,_

_Harry_

Once he paid and gave the address to the florist, she called for another young woman from the back. When she came out, she explained that she Apparates to the house right then, so the customer knows it has been delivered.

Harry went to sit down in the small garden connected to the shop, heart pounding in his chest. He just wanted to see Draco again. He missed him _so much_. It was three weeks since Draco had Apparated out of Grimmauld Place, and he had not returned any of Harry’s letters.

There was a pop of someone Apparating back in.

“Mr Baker?” Was called from the front room after less than five minutes, and Harry strode back into the shop.

The florist still had the large bundle of flowers in her arms. Had she not gone yet?

“I’m so sorry.” She tilted her head with sadness in her eyes.

“What…?” Harry’s heart slamming in his chest made him feel sick.

“He came to the door, and read your letter. Then tore it into little pieces and told me to tell you to ‘stick the flowers as far up your, um— you-know-what— as your head is.’ I’m really sorry, I asked him to just take the flowers but he shut the door on me.” She looked absolutely distraught about it. 

“Oh.” Was all Harry could manage. Once again he felt devastated, how could he have been so fucking stupid? He turned and walked towards the door.

“Mr Baker!” The woman called as he placed his hand on the handle, “You forgot your refund.” She held up the coins he had handed over earlier. 

“Keep it.” when she opened her mouth to protest he added, “Give it to the next sad sod who walks in.” 

***

_Cake_.

Draco loved the cake Harry made for him the first night he came over for tea. It would take him back to a time when Harry hadn’t messed it up, and Draco would start talking to Harry again. 

They could go back to how they were. Drinking tea in front of the fire, Draco working in the yard, going to the art gallery together, sitting in silence and reading books, eating dinner together.

Harry wanted a life where Draco being the last thing he saw before sleep and the first thing he saw when he woke up, with sloppy kisses before bed, soft touches just because they could, small smiles when they called each other’s names; a life where they were happy.

The cake was going to be the first step back on the right track. Draco would see how much Harry cared and they could move forward. So he made the cake.

He baked, and baked; and then some more.

Five cakes sat on the counter— only one was perfect.

Wrapped neatly, the cake was given to his owl, along with a note:

_Draco,_

_I hope this cake takes you back to a time when things between us were just becoming something wonderful._

_I miss you so much._

_Harry_

Forty five minutes after Harry’s owl left, it returned with the cake, and Harry felt like he would throw up. An unaddressed envelope contained Harry’s letter— shredded into tiny pieces. Harry wondered how many times a heart could break, and if he was reaching the limit soon.

***

“Harry, this is _ridiculous_, let us in,” Hermione said thought the door. Harry had the wards up ever since Draco had left the house; he didn’t want to see anyone.

“Mate, come on. Just let us in.” Ron sounded desperate, and Harry felt like he was drowning. 

So he opened the door for his best friends.

Hermione was first through the door, practically body slamming him, when she lunged and wrapped her arms around him. He felt his throat tighten and his resolve waver, but he got it under control and pulled back.

“Come in. Sorry I’ve been—” Harry wanted to lie. Tell them he had been sick or busy working; anything, but he just couldn’t. “I— I haven’t been okay.” He couldn’t meet their eyes.

“We know, mate.” Ron wrapped an arm around Harry’s shoulders, “Let’s go sit down and we can talk.” 

“I’ll make us some tea,” Hermione said, and walked down stairs as Harry and Ron went up. 

Sitting with their shoulders pressing together on the ground in front of the fire, Ron waited with Harry in silence. Hermione arrived, poured them all tea and sat on the other side of Harry. 

“I— guys, I fucked up so bad.” Harry closed his eyes tightly. Everything was welling up from his carefully sorted and locked vaults in the back of his mind, and he had to take a deep breath to keep it under control.

“Oh, Harry,” Hermione said, softly and took his hand in hers. 

A sharp sob escaped Harry, before he could stop it. 

Ron turned and pulled him into a tight hug, and it was like every single wall he had put up, all the locks he had locked opened and everything poured out. 

Body shaking violently with each sob and tears running from his eyes; Harry clung to Ron’s shirt and clenched Hermione’s hand.

After the war Harry had mourned; crying every day. Then, after a month he just stopped. The tears didn’t come anymore and he put all those feelings in the locked vaults in his mind. He hadn’t cried since then, and all those years of shoving down his feelings had caught up with him. 

Harry had spent so long living for other people, he didn’t really know how to live for himself. Getting close to Draco, he had started living for himself— finally thinking that perhaps he could put the war behind him and find a happiness he never thought he’d get. 

But he fucked up massively.

He hurt himself.

He hurt Draco.

His chest hurt from how much it constricted, his throat was sore from the sobs that seemed to stretch on for an eternity, and his mouth was dry; but he had finally stopped crying. 

Pulling his head back from where he buried it in Ron’s chest, he wiped the tears and boogers from his face. Where Harry’s face had been, Ron’s shirt was covered in tears and boogers, too. 

“Sorry mate, you might want to _Scourgify _that shirt. Or incinerate it,” Harry said, his voice raw. The only thing Harry felt embarrassed about was the mess he made on Ron’s shirt. The three of them went through so much together, and had cried so much together that it only gave him relief crying in front of them. 

“I might just get you to buy me a new one.” Ron chuckled softly and Hermione ran her hand through Harry’s hair as Harry reached for and drank his now cold tea. 

“Draco?” Hermione continued to run her fingers through his hair.

“I think I ruined it.” Another wave of despair shot through him. 

“It can’t be that bad, mate. Talk us through it and we can think of a solution together. That’s what we always do,” Ron said, firmly.

So Harry told them.

Everything. 

About seeing Draco as a bird— multiple times, searching for him in Diagon Alley, having coffee, spending time together, Draco talking to Gertrude about everything, Harry not realising Draco wanted to invite _him_ to Parkinson’s wedding, Narcissa getting sick, almost getting it on at Harry’s, the ensuing fight once the secret was out, and all of his attempts to win Draco back. They sat quietly until he finished.

“Harry, I love you. I want you to know that I’m not being condescending, and if I’m wrong please don’t take it the wrong way, but I have to ask; did you actually say _sorry_. Not with your actions, but the words. I’m sorry.” Hermione lay her hand over Harry’s as she spoke softly.

“Of course I did, I—” Harry shut his mouth tightly mid-sentence. 

Did he say sorry?

He tried to explain why he did it.

Asked Draco to understand.

Said he didn’t meant to do it.

Told Draco he had every right to be angry.

That he wanted to go back to the way things were.

_But he didn’t say sorry._

Harry opened his mouth to say something, but he had no idea what and just shut it again.

“Mate… You messed up, but you _really _fucked up by not saying sorry.” Ron shook his head and gave Harry’s shoulders a squeeze.

“I really did, didn’t I?” Harry scrunched his eyes closed tightly, “Do you think I ruined it all?” 

“No, I don’t think so. If he reacted the way you said he did, it is obvious it hurt a lot; which means that he really cares. You don’t get that upset if it didn’t matter.” Hermione took Harry’s empty tea cup and poured him another cup.

“But, you have to make sure you apologise and really mean it. It won’t be fixed automatically. You both seem to like each other a lot; so I think you can work it out.” Ron poured himself another cup of tea, too.

“I hope so.” Harry took a long sip of his warm tea.

“You know, if you told me six years ago I would be giving you dating advice about the ferret; I would have laughed in your face and tell you to stay off the Firewhisky.” Ron laughed.

“I wouldn’t have believed it either,” Harry said, a small smile on his face— the first one in weeks.

***

Harry was standing on the doorstep of the Malfoy Manor; hands and box in them, shaking slightly. The Manor held many awful memories, but today it held hope and uncertainty; a possibility of happiness. After the night with Ron and Hermione, he spent the ensuing four days working out exactly what he was going to do and say. 

Taking a deep breath, trying to quell his screaming heart, Harry knocked on the door. 

There was a long silence following his knock, and he wondered if they hadn’t heard it or knew it was Harry so wouldn’t open the door.

Door opening, he had been expecting a House Elf or even Draco himself, instead standing in front of him was Narcissa Malfoy. This threw Harry off and he temporarily froze.

“Mr Potter, good afternoon. I am very sorry, but if you are here to see Draco, he does not want you here. So I will politely ask you to leave.” Narcissa was firm but her eyes were sad. She looked much better than Harry had expected; colour in her face and didn’t seem extremely frail— she still had purple stains under her eyes from what Harry guessed was lack of sleep.

“I am glad to see you’re up and about. How are you feeling?” Harry regained ability to think.

“I am doing much better, thank you for asking. The treatment the healers have me on is very effective. They say I will make a full recovery.” Narcissa, gave Harry a curt nod, “Thank you for stopping by, but I must ask you to leave.” She stepped back into the house, hand on the door.

“Please, let me see Draco.” Harry was begging; he couldn’t have her turn him away. His heart would break all over again if she did. 

After staring at him for what felt like an eternity— searching for something, exactly like Draco had done months ago— Narcissa spoke again.

“I do not care if you are the Saviour of the Wizarding World, you have hurt my son very much. He is everything to me, and I do not wish to see him get hurt again, so I will ask again for you to leave.” Narcissa held her arm out gesturing for Harry to leave.

“Please, I just need to talk to him.” What if this was his only chance?

“Mr Potter, I will not ask you again.” Narcissa’s previous expression was gone and replaced with a stern steely look.

Taking a deep breath, he resisted the loss of control bubbling up. Harry could feel his chest constricting painfully and tears threatening behind his eyes. 

_Was this the end?_

“Mother, you may let him in.”

_Draco._

Heart skipping a beat, Harry swallowed; he hadn’t heard Draco’s voice for over a month and hadn’t realised exactly how much he missed it. Draco said Harry could come in. Did that mean he was willing to talk? Listen to Harry? _Forgive _him?

“Are you sure?” Narcissa remained looking at Harry, expression unwavering.

“Yes.” 

Stepping aside to let Harry through, Narcissa leaned in as he passed, “If you hurt him,” She said in a whisper. Harry just nodded, and stepped through. He didn't need to hear the rest of the sentence to understand. 

Draco was standing on the other side of the foyer; he looked tired and his features were schooled, so Harry couldn’t really tell what he was thinking, but he was so happy to see Draco. So nervous to talk to him, but seeing Draco standing there, he realised he could do it— he needed to do it. Draco being there, in front of him gave him the courage he needed. He was a Gryffindor after all. 

Draco headed up the stairs without a word and Harry took that as his cue to follow. Not wanting to put pressure on Draco, Harry followed behind maintaining a careful distance; heart pounding in his chest. This was the deciding moment, and Harry wasn’t going to ruin it again.

Stepping into a room, Harry realised Draco had taken him to his room, not a living room, or a study; his bedroom. Harry wasn’t sure what that meant, but he was going to take it as a good sign. Draco walked over to the floor length window and stared out of it.

“Draco…” Harry started, but despite rehearsing everything he wanted to say words failed him.

“I’m so _angry _right now.” Draco didn’t turn around, and Harry’s stomach flipped nervously. He was expecting Draco to be angry but still it was nerve racking. 

“I know. And Draco.” Harry paused and walked across the room until he was next to him, “I know it's late, but; I’m sorry,” Harry said, the end coming out as a whisper. 

Without a word Draco turned to him. Harry took this as permission to continue speaking. 

“I’m so sorry it took me so long to apologise. I’m sorry I didn’t realise sooner. I’m sorry I thought sending you things meant you would forgive me and we could go back to the way things were. I’m sorry I was such an idiot. I’m sorry I invaded your privacy like that. I should have told you straight away. I should have stopped, but I didn’t and I’m so sorry. 

“I’m so scared things between us will never be okay again, and I’m sorry if I’ve ruined that and taken our chance away. I realised, I think I could find a happiness with you I never thought I would get— or deserve. I am sorry for all the hurt I caused you, past and present. I wish I could take away all the pain and I’m sorry I can’t do that.” Once Harry had started he couldn’t stop and it all just came out, and Draco waited patiently as Harry spoke.

They stared at each other as neither one spoke. Draco’s eyes were not as hard as they had been before, and the grey even seemed more vibrant. Harry swore his heart was beating so loud Draco could absolutely hear it, and he reached his hand up to slide his glasses further up his nose. His hand stopped in front of his face as Draco wrapped his fingers around Harry’s wrist. 

“Thank you.” Draco lowered Harry’s hand. Harry didn’t understand why Draco was thanking him, but his heart was in his throat. 

“Thank you for apologizing, I accept your apology.” Harry’s heart leapt with excitement.

“Really?” His voice was hopeful.

“Yes, but I don’t forgive you.” Harry felt like the carpet was pulled out from under him as Draco spoke. 

“Not yet anyway.” 

_Wait, did that mean maybe Draco would forgive him?_

“That’s okay, we can work towards that.” Harry was more hopeful than he had been in weeks. 

“We can.” Harry thought he might cry at Draco’s words.

“Here.” Harry held the box he had brought out to Draco. “I brought this for you.”

Taking the box, Draco walked over to the bed and sat down and placed the box on his lap then looked up at Harry. Harry nodded for him to open the box. 

Once opened, Draco looked back up at Harry; his eyes were wider than before and his mouth open ever so slightly.

“Are you sure?” Draco reached into the box and gently pulled out the sculpture Harry had made all those months ago— the dragon-human hybrid. 

“Yes,” Harry said, firmly. He hadn’t been more sure of anything in the past five years.

“It’s more beautiful than I remember it.” Draco had a hint of awe in his voice, and ran his finger over the spikes along the spine of the person. Harry had taken the suggestions Draco made about paint, and had added both silver and gold to highlight and draw the eye to certain aspects of the sculpture, and given the dragon silver eyes.

“So are you.”

Letting out a little chuckle, Draco continued to inspect the sculpture; this time with a lovely tinge of red on his cheeks. 

“You know how I said that to me art isn’t logical; it’s a _feeling_ ?” Draco looked up at him and nodded, “I didn’t have to plan this, it came from a place deep within me. I felt like my soul had opened and was just creating a _physical _form of something that was already there. Do you know what I was thinking about when I made it? What had happened before I started it?” 

“No.” Draco’s voice was a whisper and he shook his head.

“You.” Harry’s voice came out equally as quiet.

“Me?” Eyes wide and mouth partly open, Draco looked at Harry for a second longer then looked back down at the sculpture.

“You. I had flown into you _accidentally_ for the _second _time; I didn’t know what to do with this new understanding of you, so I just locked myself away and sculpted. This was the answer my soul gave me.” As Harry finished speaking Draco reached up his hand and placed his palm on Harry’s chest, over his heart.

“From here?” 

“From there.” 

With Draco’s hand on his chest they stayed like that, their breathing synchronising— visibly calming them both.

“Draco, I don’t know where we’ll be in a months time, six months, a year, five years; but I have laid awake at night, thinking of all the things we could be doing. Laughing at stupid jokes, walking hand in hand, sitting together reading, attending events together not caring what people say, waking up next to each other, I won't need people to tell me I am the Chosen One to feel special— because every time you look at me I feel it, and maybe I’ll even tell you that it’s the happiest I’ve ever been. I don’t know where we’ll be, but I really want to try this.” As Harry finished, he raised his hand to place it over Draco’s on his chest and Draco swallowed, eyes shimmering.

“I don’t know either, but I know where I will be in a month, and as long as you are not busy I would like you to be there, too.” Draco blinked a few times to rid his eyes of any unshed tears. Harry was sure Draco could feel his heart throbbing in his chest.

“Of course. I would like to be there, whenever and wherever it is.”

“The 28th of November, do you have plans?” Draco looked at Harry.

_Parkinson’s wedding._

“I do not have any plans.” Harry’s heart was leaping in his chest and he couldn’t keep the smile from his face, which Draco returned.

“It is my best friend's wedding, and I was wondering if you would like to attend as my date?” Draco ran his thumb gently across Harry’s shirt as he spoke.

“There is nothing I would like more.” Harry felt like he would explode with happiness when Draco’s smile widened. 

Placing the sculpture on the bedside table and standing up, Draco walked to the doorway and turned back to Harry expecting him to follow. Harry did, all the way to the doors in the foyer, not being able to keep the grin off his face or the giddiness from his chest. Draco opened the front door and let Harry step out but move to step out himself. When Harry turned back to him, Draco spoke up.

“Thank you for stopping by.” Despite the detached formal peasantry of his words, Draco’s blinding smile said he was absolutely not detached.

“Thank you for seeing me.” Harry matched Draco’s formalities, returning his grin.

“I will be in contact,” Draco said with a curt nod, and mirth in his eyes.

“And I will be awaiting your reply.” Harry took a step back, and turned to leave, taking five steps away from the door.

“Harry!” 

Turning at his name, Harry looked up to see Draco two steps away from him. Draco strode the last two steps, wrapped an arm around Harry’s shoulders and one hand slid to the back of Harry’s neck, and pulled Harry into a kiss. Harry raised both his hands to rest against Draco’s chest where his collar bones were.

The kiss was gentle and short, and so sweet, Harry’s entire being felt like it had become fireworks and exploded into a thousand colourful shards. Under Harry’s palm, he could feel Draco’s heart pounding in his chest, and Harry knew his own heart mirrored Draco’s exactly.

Pulling back, Draco gave Harry the softest smile Harry ever had directed at him, and his chest clenched tightly before it burst with the love the future could hold. Draco had a dust of pink across his cheek, and his eyes shimmered in the afternoon light. In that moment, Harry wasn’t sure he had ever seen something to rival that beauty.

“See you,” Draco said after a pause.

“See you.”

Harry stood still, as Draco walked to the door. He turned around as he reached it, lifted his hand and gave Harry an awkward half-wave— like he did all those months ago when they first met at Diagon Alley— then shut the door. 


	7. Epilogue

“That was a beautiful ceremony,” Harry said, smiling at Pansy.

“Thank you, Potter.” Pansy smiled at him as if she didn’t— only thirty minutes ago— threaten to chop his balls off if he hurt Draco again.

“You look beautiful, but I’m sorry I have to say— Draco did look better in his dress.” Harry earned a hard whack on his arm from Draco himself.

“Careful there, Gertrude.” Draco smirked at Harry.

Much to Draco’s displeasure Pansy _ had _made him wear a dress. It wasn’t a purple like Harry had envisioned, but a pale sky blue one. It was, however, very short and showed of his very pale legs quite nicely. Much to Harry’s pleasure, Pansy must have somehow had a telepathic connection with Harry because Draco had white flowers— matching Pansy’s bouquet, in his hair.

After the ceremony and photos, Draco changed into a suit of the same colour, for the reception. Harry demanded Draco leave the flowers in his hair, so despite complaining about it greatly, Draco left them in.

Pansy laughed. “Yes you looked quite pretty in your dress, Draco, darling.” Pansy linked her arm around Draco’s.

“No, you’re wrong. I didn’t look beautiful, or quite pretty, I looked amazing. Please, Pansy I outshined you. No one was looking at you. You should have chosen an ugly dress, or an ugly maid of honour.” Draco pretended to flick hair over his shoulder, and the three of them laughed. 

“I wish you had let me do your makeup, you could have been so much more.”

“All in good time, dear. I am sure there will be other chances.” Draco winked at her.

“Dray, dare I say, you have come over to me now, to inform me you— my best friend and maid of honour— are going to fuck off before the end of my reception?” Pansy fixed Draco with a displeased glare. 

“But, Pans—” Draco said, then leaned in to whisper into her ear— too quiet for Harry to hear. 

When Draco pulled back Pansy eyes dragged up and down Harry once before she smirked.

“You’re right, Draco. He does look good in that suit. I’m impressed you waited this long, you’re a stronger man than I would be.” Harry felt the heat rising in his face at the implication, and she turned to Harry, “Potter, thank you for the lovely sculpture you made for us. Of course, thank you for coming. I am sorry we could not catch up properly— we must have dinner some time, but for now I believe you are wanted elsewhere.” 

“Right.” Harry cleared his throat trying to not seem as embarrassed as he felt, and a glance at Draco told him he wasn’t the only one embarrassed, “Well, congratulations again, Pansy. See you next time,” Harry said, but Draco had already grabbed his hand and started pulling him away, with a “Bye Pans.” of his own.

“Oh, and Draco darling, owl me later— and don’t spare the details!” Pansy called after them, mortifying Harry and if the way Draco spluttered was any indication, him too.

“What was that all about?” Harry feigned innocence as Draco led him toward the foyer.

“I think you know what that was about.” Draco smirked at Harry, cheeks still pink from embarrassment.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Harry did know what he was talking about but he wasn’t about to let Draco off so easily. 

“Harry James Potter, I think you know exactly what I’m talking about, and exactly what wearing that suit would do.” Draco leaned in to whisper in his ear as they arrived in the foyer.

Harry turned his face until his lips practically brushed against Draco’s as he spoke; “I really do.”

Stomach lurching as Draco pulled him tight and Side-Alonged them both to the first floor of Grimmauld Place, Harry smiled to himself. Things between them were better now, and they were both trying their best to make things work. Harry admitted he had never been with anyone— he and Ginny didn’t get very far— and Draco suggested should take things slowly. Which entailed a whole lot of snogging and fondling, and one over the pants handjob. But tonight Harry was ready; he wanted to do more. 

He wanted Draco.

Lips meeting each other in a frenzy, Draco’s fingers explored the curve of Harry’s lower back, before slipping lower to squeeze his arse and Harry tangled his fingers in Draco’s hair. Dragging his hands up Harry’s back, a long the shoulder blades and back over his biceps; Draco’s hands stopped grabbing the lapels of Harry’s suit jacket.

“Off.” 

Draco pulled back just enough for the words to come out, before his lips joined with Harry’s again. Untangling his fingers from Draco’s hair, Harry helped as Draco practically tore the Jacket off him. 

“Shirt too.” Draco ordered Harry before moving his lips to Harry’s ear and giving it a sharp nip. A shiver ran down Harry’s spine and hurriedly started fumbling at the buttons of his shirt. Draco’s hands were over and around his— struggling like Harry to unbutton the shirt, his mouth continuing to nip Harry. 

“Too slow.”

“A little eager, aren’t we?”

Drawing back, Draco grabbed both sides of Harry’s shirt, and with a smirk pulled hard. There was a tearing sound and buttons from the shirt fell to the floor, as it sat open and Draco slid it off Harry.

“Seriously?” Harry was far too turned on to even care about the shirt. Draco was bossy even in the bedroom, and it was very hot. 

“Much better.”

While Harry tried to get Draco’s jacket undone and off him, Draco was attacking Harry’s neck and collarbone; leaving nips and hot wet kisses there.

“Draco.” It came out as a breathy whine, and Draco chuckled into Harry’s neck, giving him goosebumps. Removing his hands from Harry, Draco wrapped his fingers over Harry’s own and helped slip the buttons through the holes and push the Jacket off. 

Harry yanked Draco by his hair and pulled him back up so their lips met again, and Draco’s hand made its way to Harry’s belt, fumbling there until it was undone. Pulling away from Draco’s mouth, Harry ran his lips along Draco’s jaw and to the soft area under it, nipping and kissing as he went. After undoing the zipper of Harry’s slacks, Draco gave it a tug— but it only moved a little.

“Off.”

“Very demanding.” Harry moved his hands from Draco’s hair to where Draco’s hands were trying to push Harry’s pants down, and pushed down as he kicked off his shoes. Once he had rid himself of his pants he looked back up at Draco, who had the same desire Harry felt reflected in his eyes. However, Draco was practically still fully clothed.

“You’re still wearing far too many clothes.” Harry stepped forwards to press his body to Draco’s.

“Lie down.” 

“You’re very eager.” Harry teased, hands trying to undo Draco’s buttons, but ended up fisting the shirt in his hands as a moan was drawn out of him when Draco palmed Harry’s erection through his underwear. 

“You are too.” Draco gave it another squeeze, “On the floor.” Harry did what he was told and sat down. Looking up at Draco, Harry could see— even through his trousers— Draco’s erection. He wondered what Draco had in store for them; Harry on the ground, Draco standing. Harry had never given a blowjob before, but for Draco he’d try. 

“Lie down.” Draco smiled, extremely pleased when Harry did. Even though Harry felt extremely exposed and vulnerable lying there in his underwear, he trusted Draco and knew he could let go. Then Draco took two steps until he was over Harry then knelt down slowly, knees either side of Harry and arse on Harry’s thighs. 

Harry sat up to kiss Draco— to pull him close, he needed more contact; but Draco put a hand on his chest and without a word pushed him so he was lying back down. Draco spent the next minute or so exploring and worshiping Harry’s mouth, neck, throat, and chest; and pinned Harry’s hand by his side if he tried to move it. Lulling his head to the side, Harry stared into the fire, mesmerised by the flicker of the flames.

“Wait, Draco.” When Harry spoke up, Draco immediately stopped and pulled back with worry across his face, “Are you sure you want to do it here?” Harry nodded his head to the fire, and Draco smiled at him.

“It’s time to make some better memories, and with all the time we spent here— it just felt right.” Draco leaned back down to give Harry a much sweeter kiss than the ones they had been sharing moments prior. 

“If that’s what you want.” 

“As long as it’s with you, I wouldn’t care where, Harry.” 

After only separating apart because they needed air— Harry felt like he might pass out, Draco shuffled down Harry’s legs further pressing kisses over his chest as he went. Draco paid particular attention to both of Harry’s nipples before going lower. Placing feathery kisses on the soft skin just above Harry’s hip bone, Draco rubbed Harry through his underwear. Hips twitching up into Draco’s hand, Harry moaned.

“You’re beautiful, you know?” Draco sat back up and ran his hand across Harry’s erection again, dragging another groan from Harry. Draco traced his erection with his fingers, then ran them along the waistband of Harry’s underwear, and paused.

“Is this okay?” Draco’s eyes were blown wide, slick red lips curved up into a smile, and a beautiful blush creeping up his face.

Harry nodded.

“Tell me. Say it,” Draco said, it wasn’t demanding like his past commands were, it was soft and gentle. 

“I want this— you.” Draco’s smile almost blinded Harry it was so bright. 

“Tell me if you want to stop, you don’t have to do anything you don’t want to. As soon as you’re uncomfortable tell me.”

“Draco, I won’t want to st—”

“Please.” Draco was looking at Harry with such longing and affection, this was him showing his love for Harry— looking after him.

“Yes, of course I will.” 

Lifting his hips off the ground, as Draco pulled his underwear down and off, Harry suddenly felt a wave of embarrassment. Harry was completely naked and Draco was fully clothed; he had the urge to cover up.

“Are you okay?” Draco sensed his unease. 

Looking up at Draco, Harry realised he didn’t have to be worried, or embarrassed. Draco wasn’t going to let anything happen to him—there was only longing and love in his eyes and it made his heart sing. He could let himself go. 

“I’m okay.” Harry smiled, because he was, and Draco nodded before returning to his previous position on Harry’s legs. 

Trying to see what Draco was doing, Harry tilted his head up, but couldn’t see much so he shuffled slightly and propped himself up on his elbows. 

“Hang on.” Draco stood up. Turning to the pile of blankets and pillows in the corner of the room he cast a wandless Accio and the bedding was in his hands. 

“Show off.” Harry wouldn’t admit that it was hot as hell, and he wanted to see more. 

“You love it. Sit up.” Draco walked around until he was behind Harry— Harry sat up— and he started piling up the pillows and placed the blankets on top. He placed his hands on Harry’s shoulder, lowering him back down to lean against the pile, and came back to kneel over Harry’s legs. 

“Better?”

“Much.” Harry could now see everything, and Draco caring like that was such a turn on.

Placing his hands back on Harry’s hips, Draco dragged his fingers across the soft skin there sending shivers through Harry. Starting at Harry’s neck, Draco mapped a trail down Harry’s chest to his hipbone with his mouth. Only having limited access to Draco— he was too far away damnit— Harry ran his hands over every part of Draco he could reach; hair, neck, shoulders, back, arms.

Taking in a sharp involuntary breath as Draco pressed a soft kiss next to his erection, Harry lay his hand over Draco’s which was still resting against his hip. Draco lifted his hand from Harry’s skin and Harry went to remove his own from the back of Draco’s

“Leave it there.” Draco’s eyes piercing Harry and deep into his self control meant that he was powerless. He had already let himself go, and entrusted Draco with his body— and maybe even his soul.

Hooking his fingers around the edge of Draco’s hand, Harry let him lead their joined hands until they were hovering over Harry’s erection. 

“Show me how you like it.”

Heat flooded Harry’s face, but despite the rush embarrassment, the look of desire on Draco’s face was enough to spur Harry on. He nodded and moved until Draco’s hand was wrapped around the base of Harry’s erection. Taking a breath and closing his eyes, Harry revelled in the feeling of Draco’s hand around him.

Hips jerking up and a moan escaping him as warm lips wrapped around the tip of his erection, Harry’s eyes snapped open in time to see Draco pulled back with a smirk.

“Still with me?”’ 

Harry nodded.

“Yeah.” Harry’s voice betrayed him, conveying exactly how much he wanted this.

Slowly, he started to move their joined hands; Draco’s sliding over him with ease. Draco’s hands were a thousand times better than his own. Picking up speed, Harry added the slight flick at the end of each stroke and Draco had a predatory grin every time. Getting into a rhythm, Harry didn’t need to continue guiding Draco as he took control. Harry let his eyes slip closed and loosened his grip on Draco’s hand, soft moans pulled from him every so often. Draco let go of Harry’s erection and Harry opened his eyes and whimpered.

“Don’t worry, baby. We’re not done yet.” 

Maintaining eye contact, Draco lowered his head— so slowly Harry thought he’d go crazy— until Draco’s mouth engulfed the tip of his cock once again. His erection twitched and Draco chuckled around it, then immediately lowered down until he took as much as he could in his mouth. Nothing he had experienced in his whole life had turned him on this much; Harry though he could finish right then. 

Pulling back, Draco looked up at Harry and lowered himself down again, eliciting another moan from Harry. Maintaining a decent tempo, Draco didn’t take his eyes from Harry’s; grey that Harry found himself drowning in. As Draco lowered his mouth around Harry and his tongue slipped along the underside of his length; Harry’s hips thrust up into Draco’s mouth. Draco gagged and pulled off. 

“I— I’m sorry,” Harry said, puffing. He was genuinely surprised at his reaction. When had he started puffing? 

“No, it’s okay.” Draco shook his head smiling; but he still swallowed twice.

Shuffling back down he took Harry in his mouth again, this time hands firmly placed on Harry’s hips to prevent any movement and Harry tangled his hands in Draco’s hair. Getting back into rhythm, Harry lost himself in Draco as he bobbed his head up and down. Very rapidly, Harry began to come undone. Feeling his orgasm rapidly approaching, Harry knew he wouldn’t last much longer. Reading Harry’s body, Draco pulled off with a popping sound, and Harry groaned. 

“Don’t worry, I’m only stopping to see what you want to do. If you’re happy with this, we can do this. If you want something else…” Draco took Harry loosely in his hand and stroked gently as he spoke.

“Uh— I—” Harry was having a real hard time thinking, “I— I don’t want to, you know. Not yet, anyway. I’m sorry.” Harry couldn’t take his eyes off Draco’s hand. He didn’t know what Draco wanted or expected; he just didn’t want to let him down. 

Draco just gave him a blinding smile, “We won’t do anything you aren’t ready for. How about you tell me what you want?” 

“I want you out of your clothes.” Harry sat up and replaced Draco’s hands in undoing his belt, and when done Draco shimmied out of them. Reaching for Draco’s shirt, Harry stopped mid motion as Draco held the shirt down. Meeting Draco’s gaze, Harry tilted his head in a silent question. Taking a breath and smiling, Draco grabbed the hem of his shirt and pulled it over his head. 

Understanding Draco’s hesitation and a wave of guilt crashing over him, Harry’s eyes trailed the scars that marred Draco’s body. He didn’t know it left scars. He didn’t know it didn’t heal properly. Eye’s meeting, he saw worry in Draco, almost like he was embarrassed. 

Did he think he wasn’t going to want him because he was scarred?

Harry was the one who should be embarrassed and ashamed, not Draco. They had put everything behind them. They said sorry, for everything. If they were here, it meant that Draco had forgiven him for that, and Harry needed him to know it didn’t matter what lay on his body. Opening his mouth, Harry did what he always did; jump headlong into it.

“Draco.” Harry placed a hand on his chest over a scar, “I think I’m falling in love with you,” he said in a whisper, as if the only people who needed to hear it was them. He felt Draco take a sharp breath under his hand, and his face glowed with happiness. 

“Harry… I…” Draco trailed off, he looked lost for what to say.

“I know.” Harry could see it written on his face, feel it in each touch, he didn’t need Draco to say anything. 

Pulling Draco back down, their lips joined in a slow and passionate kiss which slowly built up pace and became frenzied again. Lifting his hips up Harry ground up against Draco, which elicited a moan from both of them; so he did it over and over again. Every place they touched sparked desire in Harry and he was losing himself in Draco.

Muscles starting to tire, Harry struggle keeping the pace from beneath and slowed slightly; Draco had been letting Harry do all the work, propping himself up above him. When he sensed Harry slowing down he lowered himself further until Harry didn’t need to lift himself up to grind against him. 

Joining in the grinding, Draco matched Harry’s speed and Harry could feel his orgasm rapidly approaching. They had both given up snogging and resorted to placing kisses on shoulders and moaning in ears. Then Draco sat back and Harry sighed at the loss of contact; Draco really loved to stop right when things were about to get so good.

“Hands.” Draco held his own hands out for Harry’s. Being a very good boy, he did exactly what he was told and placed his hands in Draco’s. Hands filled with a small amount of cold lube as Draco whispered a spell he didn’t recognise, Harry rubbed his fingers together to spread it around. He really needed to learn that spell. Propping up with his arms, Draco lined up their cocks and Harry’s own throbbed at the contact. 

“You finally showed me what else those hands are good at, time to put them to work.” Draco dragged his teeth across Harry’s ear as he spoke and it sent shivers down his spine. Tentatively, Harry wrapped his hands around their erections and pumped it twice, drawing a moan from both of them.

Continuing to maintain a slow pace, Harry revelled in their joined bodies and the feel of Draco’s head buried in his shoulder, breath ghosting over Harry’s skin. Since Draco kept stopping and starting, teasing Harry, he was going to give him a taste of his own medicine. 

“Ngh, Harry. You’re too slow!” Draco sunk his teeth into the skin where his neck and shoulder join, and Harry gasped. 

“I don’t know what you mean.” Harry grinned, teasing Draco but didn’t speed up his hands.

“Do I have to do everything myself?” Draco sighed which turned into a moan as he thrust into Harry’s hand. 

Falling into rhythm with Draco’s thrusts, Harry ran his hand up and down their erection. Bending his arm, Draco leaned more on Harry as he picked up speed; Harry wasn’t sure he was going to last much longer. His hands around them and Draco’s cock sliding against his meant that Harry was rapidly approaching his orgasm and Draco appeared to as well. 

“Draco—” Harry moaned, and Draco pulled back to look him in the eye just his orgasm hit him like a truck, and he came on his hands and splattering across his stomach. Pumping his hands faster, Harry only had to wait a few more seconds for Draco’s orgasm, it ripped a groaned “Harry,” from Draco as he spilled across Harry's chest. 

Collapsing on top of Harry, Draco buried his face once again in the crook of Harry’s neck and placed soft kisses there. They stayed like that until their breathing synchronized and Harry was starting to feel drowsy, and quite sticky. 

Rolling off Harry, Draco sat up and looked down at him with a grin, then wandlessly cast a _ Scourgify, _engulfing Harry in his magic for a moment. Harry would never get over the feeling of Draco’s magic on his skin, or how hot it was when he used wandless magic. Casting one over himself, Draco stretch and pushed Harry’s legs open. Once Harry complied, Draco lay down in between his legs with his head on Harry’s chest.

Searching blindly behind him, Harry pulled out one of the blankets he was propped up against and spread it out over them. Sighing contently, Harry bent his head and placed a brief kiss to the top of Draco’s head. It smelt like apples and he rested his nose against it. 

“You feel so alive,” Draco said softly, lips brushing Harry’s chest.

“You make me feel alive.”

Harry felt Draco’s lips form a smile against his skin, and they fell into silence. The warmth of Draco’s body, the sounds of the fire and their breathing mixing, and post orgasm bliss, all started coaxing Harry towards sleep. He shut his eyes and just enjoyed the moment; already halfway to falling asleep.

"Harry?"

"Hmm?"

"Can you start keeping me company while I work again?"

"As long as you stop throwing the bread on the ground.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for reading! I has been an absolute pleasure participating in this fest, and I had so much fun writing this fic.  
I have endless love for the mods, my beta, and cheerleaders; AND of course, every single one of you who read this!  
Thank you all! <3

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading! Please support the author by clicking on the kudos button and leaving a comment below! ♥


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